Kiss of the Basilisk
by corvusdraconis
Summary: [HG/SS] AU: Tom Riddle's diary didn't start with Ginny. In fact, it started with Lucius Malfoy. Taking over his mind, Tom found a sacrifice to use in the Chamber of Secrets to "prepare" the Chamber for his resurrection. He really should have read the fine print when remaking spell required the "kiss of the basilisk."
1. Chapter 1

**Summary** : [HG/SS] AU: Tom Riddle's diary didn't start with Ginny. In fact, it started with Lucius Malfoy. Taking over his mind, Tom found a sacrifice to use in the Chamber of Secrets to "prepare" the Chamber for his resurrection. He really should have read the fine print when remaking spell required the "kiss of the basilisk."

 **A/N:** Um…. I'm on a roll with basilisks… sorry. Well, not sorry.

 **Beta Love:** The Dragon and the Rose, dutchgirl01

 **Trigger warning:** Bullying

* * *

 **Kiss of the Basilisk**

 **Chapter 1**

 **Always Read the Fine Print**

 _Have you ever held a snake?_

 _They are so strong._

 _You can see why there are so many myths about them:_

 _They are unlike any other creature._

— _Michelle Paver_

Lucius Malfoy walked carefully into the dark of the chamber, his pale blond hair only barely reflecting in light at all. In his arms was draped a young girl, perhaps eleven or twelve at the most. Her bushy brown hair was like a bird's nest, her arms were covered in multiple cuts and scrapes from a fierce struggle, and her eyes— her eyelids were fused shut with some kind of black ooze making impossible for the young girl to open her eyes. Yet, even as he carried the girl and walked into the darkened chamber, Lucius' own eyes were not active. They stared blankly ahead— lifeless, mindless.

As he dropped the girl's body like a sack of potatoes, he placed the leather-bound journal on top. Taking a knife, he slashed his hand open, allowing scarlet rivulets of his lifeblood drip down over the pages. He then unstoppered and poured a vial of silvery liquid over the pages to mix with the blood as it would.

 _Chamber of Secrets_

 _Hear my plea_

 _Take this girl's life_

 _In exchange for me._

 _Prepare me a body,_

 _And free me from this_

 _Unending limbo_

 _With the basilisk's kiss_.

 _Blood of the servant_

 _Aptly possessed,_

 _Blood of the unicorn,_

 _Taken under duress._

 _Take this girl_

 _And make her thine._

 _Prepare me a body,_

 _And make it mine!_

Lucius ripped a page out of the diary and transfigured it into a cruel dagger and plunged it deep into the girl's chest. She screamed as the dagger sank cruelly into her fragile young body.

"There now, girl. Your blood will feed the chamber's waters and power my rise. Rejoice, for even as you bleed out, I shall be reborn. What better use for such useless, unworthy blood? Nothing better than this."

Lucius stood and turned, walking away, his movements very stiff and disjointed.

Meanwhile, the girl lay flat on her back on the chamber's floor, her blood leaking slowly from the wound and trickling into the water, tinging the fountains with pink.

* * *

"It's a human girl."

"How can you tell? Humans all look much the same to me."

"Well, serpents all look the same to me."

"Pssssh," the other voice hissed. "Says the flying dinosaur."

"I evolved," the one voice said. "What's _your_ excuse?"

"One cannot improve on perfection, Fawkes."

"Ffft," Fawkes replied. "You are violently allergic to roosters, Sithiss."

"At least I'm not a bloody vegetarian."

The girl whimpered.

"Now, where are our manners? Shhh, child. Be still. We can help you."

"Yiss. The magic is already gathered. The idiot who dares insult Salazar Slytherin by trying to sacrifice a mere child in the Chamber."

"Innocent blood."

"We can save you, child, but there is a price," Fawkes said, his voice warbling.

The girl whimpered.

"There now, we are here with you. Feel us with your hands."

The girl reach out, her hands seeking. She touched both feathers and scales and gasped.

"Do not fear," Sithiss hissed. "Do not be frightened, child. There is no shame in being afraid to die, but Death often chooses to pursue those who seek to cheat the natural cycle."

"I am scared," the girl whispered.

"What is your name, child?"

"H— Hermione."

"Hermione, I am Sithiss."

"I am Fawkes."

"And I, child, am Death."

Hermione whimpered.

"Take my hand, dear child," Death's voice said, his voice laden in velvet and honey. "I shall give you a choice. The kind of choice one can only make once."

Hermione reached out and found his hand. She frowned as they felt like bones, yet they were oddly warm.

"Time is suspended in a moment— the moment of choice," Death whispered. "Instead of passing into the beyond, you may choose a different path."

"A path of Magic," Fawkes warbled.

"Path of Service," hissed Sithiss.

"The Path of Balance," Death whispered.

Hermione trembled, her face caught in between pain and shock. Her hands touched Death's face as her fingers traced the smooth bone. "What do you ask of me?"

"I shall give you a task, dear child," Death said in a whisper. "Three objects that belong rightfully to me have been loosed upon this world. Only those of mine can sense where they are at all times. I myself cannot. Rules. Always rules. But you, child, you could. In exchange, should you agree to peform this task, Fawkes and Sithiss will become your teachers and companions— your guardians and your friends, and perhaps, you might choose one amongst the mortal coil to guide your path as well. All I ask is that you make this choice of your own free will, and promise me that when I call for you to perform a particular task, that you will do it without question— or rather, question, but do it anyway. There will be times you will not understand why I ask you to do certain things. You must have faith in me— that I will protect you as part of our covenant."

Hermione winced. "Will it hurt?"

Death touched her cheek. "Yes, child, I fear it will at first. But the pain will not last forever. This, I can promise you. You have already come so far, and there will be some who cannot understand you, but I will always hear your voice across the Astral, and so will Fawkes and Sithiss."

"I am afraid," Hermione whispered, her hands clinging to Death's robes.

"It is okay to be afraid, Hermione," Death replied kindly, "but will you be brave in spite of it?"

"I want to be," Hermione answered.

"Devote your life to me, Hermione," Death said quietly, "and I shall devote mine to you."

Hermione hands sought the smooth scaled head of Sithiss, and she caressed her head tenderly. Then she soothed the feathers of the ones she knew only as Fawkes.

"You will be my friends?"Hermione asked, a twinge of deep loneliness in her voice.

"Yesss," Sithiss answered.

"Yes," Fawkes warbled.

Hermione grasped the bony hands of Death tight. "Then I'm ready."

Hermione felt the gentle ghost of a kiss upon her forehead.

"I claim you as mine, Hermione Jean Granger, witch of the human world," Death said. "From now until the end when I shall welcome you Home, you will bear my mark, see things as I see, and be drawn to life as it passes unto me."

"At your side, I give thee Sithiss, the guardian of the Dark places. I give thee also Fawkes, the guardian of the Light. May you walk in balance between them and learn from them."

"I mark you with my fangs, child, that you and I shall never be parted," Sithiss hissed.

Hermione cried out as the pain from her neck swelled from Sithiss' bite.

"I mark you with my tears, child, that you and I shall never be parted," Fawkes warbled, and Hermione felt a warmth unlike anything she had ever felt before touching her neck and easing the pain from Sithiss' fangs.

"I fill your eye with my venom, that you never be kept in the dark," Sithiss hissed.

Hermione screamed in agony as the venom burned her eyes, but she held onto Death's bony hands tightly.

"I fill your eyes with my tears, that you never forget compassion," Fawkes said, and Hermione trembled as the burning fire in her eyes eased.

"Drink of my venom and be driven to survive," Sithiss hissed.

Hermione swallowed the liquid that was a cold as ice yet it burned like acid down her throat. She whimpered again.

"Drink of my tears, and know for every pain there is succor," Fawkes warbled.

Hermione did so, and her body convulsed as venom and tears mixed together in a unique cocktail. Her teeth chattered as the fevers took her. Her arms trembled; her hands twitched. She screamed as her back arched, cracked, elongated, and twisted.

"Shedding one's skin is scary the first time," Sithiss' voice soothed.

"Once done, your body will remember," Fawkes reassured. "It will not hurt again.

Hermione moaned, her body flailing.

Death's bony hands wrapped around the hilt of the dagger as his other hand gently caressed her face.

 _I take this dagger from thee, child,_

 _As I take you as my own._

 _I claim you as my flesh and blood_

 _And give unto you my Home._

 _I free you from your Earthly bonds,_

 _To serve me in task and deed._

 _I give you freedom of shape and form,_

 _That you may go where there is need._

 _I bind your eyes in darkness,_

 _That you may truly see._

 _Beware to those who bid you open them,_

 _For stone they shall surely be._

 _And when you find the ones_

 _Who will stand by you as the truest friends,_

 _I allow you to bestow immunity,_

 _That they may look upon you and transcend._

 _Spell crafted in selfishness and evil,_

 _I banish you from my sight._

 _I turn your magic to life again,_

 _And give birth to my daughter this night._

 _Create the body in which his selfishness desires._

 _Let him come upon it and think he had done all that is required._

 _Lure him closer, and let him think he's won._

 _Then burn his eyes from their sockets with the brilliance of the sun._

Death cradled Hermione in his arms and bony, draconic wings unfolded from his back— bright and gleaming like the fullness of the moon. Large wing bones glimmered with no membrane between them, but instead there was ethereal magic spanning them instead. He folded them around himself and the young witch in his arms as Fawkes landed on his shoulder and Sithiss coiled around them both. Magic gathered, forming the cocoon of life and death remade the girl who would be sacrificed into so much more than that. The pulse of a great, looming beast filled the chamber. Magic blasted outward in a rush of heat and cold.

* * *

Hermione lay on the cold chamber floor, listening to the sound of the running water, but she was not afraid. Her eyes were close, and over her eyes was a circlet of enchanted silver and dark emerald velvet pressed against her eyes. It was dark, but was was no longer fearful. She was no longer blind in the dark. She was no longer alone.

Fawkes cuddled up next to her neck, laying his head across her forehead, and Sithiss had curled around her like the wrap of a great tattoo. Her skin, from her hands to her neck were lined with the imprint of her scales. The ink moved under her skin like a living a thing. She could feel her warmth around her like the hug of her coils, and she smiled.

Never alone. Never again.

She would never have to be afraid again— even in the darkness. Perhaps, especially in the darkness.

She knew the wizard would be back— the man with the vacant eyes. His body was ready and waiting for him. Surely he knew it by now.

Fawkes and Sithiss brought her food, and in a gesture as a phoenix to its chick or a wolf feeding its pups, they fed her. Fawkes would gently push the fruity mash into her mouth and she would swallow. Sithiss would bring her water, and dribble it into her mouth, mixed with her venom. The venom made her stronger. Hermione no longer feared the kiss of its nature. Her Lord Father had seen to that.

She heard the footsteps coming, and she lay still. Fawkes flew up to hide over the giant carved effigy of Salazar Slytherin. She could see his heat and magical signature clearly, but everything that wasn't energy looked dark and uninteresting. If she opened her eyes, she knew should see as others saw, but if anyone happened to be around at the time, they would find their death in her gaze.

The gift of Sithiss and Fawkes had given her back her sight, but it was both better and worse. It was one more example of the checks and balances of a greater world she was only beginning to understand. Both the serpent and the phoenix promised to assist her in learning. Sithiss was the beacon of Darkness. Her aura was a dark, royal purple whose eyes were deep, but glowing orange. Fawkes was the brightest of gold and orange, surrounded by a deep, crimson red. One was Dark— the other Light— but each were companions for the greater journey. Each had been waiting for her to join them on theirs.

"At lassst," a voice hissed into the darkness. "At last I shall be remade."

It was a younger voice— not the one of the man who had abducted her. She heard the sound of something rising from the water. Water droplets were dripping onto the stone firmaments.

Energy was swirling. She could see it. It swirled like a cloud of angry hornets, gathering around the form of a man in the water. Beside that man was another. Tall, familiar. Ah, he was the one that had sacrificed her. She could not see his blond hair anymore, but she could see his magic. It swirled below his skin, circulating like blood. It quivered with sickness, signs of being used in a manner not natural.

 _Dark Magic,_ Sithiss hissed into her mind. S _ee how it draws energy from the core. Of all magic, it has the highest price on the soul for those not born of its embrace._

Yet, unlike the other, Hermione could see flashes of gold and yellow in the turbulent sea of energy. Abused as he was, he was not fully Dark.

She could see the pages of the evil diary flipping by themselves. Words formed of magic flowed into the risen body as a spectre hovered close.

"You're pathetic Lucius," the spectre hissed, strange flecks of energy and heat coming from where his mouth would be. "Soon I will not need you. You and your weak duplicitous ways. I do not need to see my future to know you. Soon, I will make my Knights of Walpurgis anew. Perhaps, I will start with your son."

"No!" Lucius gasped. "Please, my Lord. He is only but a boy."

"A boy can be turned and trained," the spectre said. "The wolf, Fenrir, knows this well."

Lucius' colour was growing brighter, fighting back the darkness of his energy. "I will do whatever you require, my Lord. Let the boy be a boy."

The spectre snorted. "There are only two kinds of people in my new order, Lucius. Those who obey and those who are weak and die. I will find the Potter boy and turn him to my cause. Is not my face glorious and young? Will he not come to my open arms and bask as you yourself once did, Lucius?"

Despair came off Lucius' body, covering his energy with the sick green of despair.

Hermione felt pity for the one who had sacrificed her, and a part of her began to realise that one's appearance and demeanor were not always the truth of person within. Who was she to judge when her two companions in life were now a phoenix and a basilisk: two sides to the same galleon of life.

The spectre stood in the body and tendrils of oozing Dark magic erupted from the body and pulled him into the flesh.

"Perhaps, I will give you a chance to redeem yourself, Lucius," the younger man said, his voice unpracticed as he ran his hands over his head as if to confirm his body was in place.

"Yes, my Lord, please," Lucius groveled.

"I will let you choose between the life of your son to me or the death of your wife, who could never commit to accepting the Mark."

Lucius' aura grew faded and pale, quivering as his magic seemed to crawl into the darkness of the cavern.

"Or, perhaps I shall be merciful, and allow her to change her mind, but you are not permitted to tell her _why_ ," the younger man said with a hint of pleasure at the blond wizard's agony. "If she chooses the Mark, I will allow your boy to live. If she declines. I will murder them both as traitors."

Lucius' breathing was coming in harsh gasps. "My Lord—"

The younger man's aura-shape shot out his arm and throttled Lucius with ease. "Am I not… merciful?"

"Y—yes my Lord," Lucius choked.

"Let him go," Hermione said, sitting up from her place in the water and cold stone floor.

"Oh, ho!" the younger shape exclaimed. "What is _this_? You survived?"

Hermione stood, wobbling without practice not being able to "see" where she was standing. "You have your body. Leave him alone."

The figure flung Lucius into the statuaries as he stormed towards Hermione. His cold hand grasped her throat, tightening inexorably. "And who are you to stop me, little girl?"

Hermione made choking sounds, but she did not struggle.

"Why aren't you fighting?" he growled. "What is this pretty bauble on your face? Did you not like what I had done to them? You looked so much better without your eyes."

He started to move the circlet off her eyes.

"No, please," Hermione whispered.

His hands around her throat tightened as he moved her circlet off her eyes. "I think you look better with your empty eye sockets showing, blind girl." he snarled.

"You will not like what you see," Hermione rasped.

"Oh, I think I will, girl," he said, and her eyes were freed from confinement.

Sulfurous orange-yellow eyes, pupils like slits, stared back at him, set in field of purest black like the eyes of a phoenix. She stared into him and his pristine adolescent face, his handsome looks, and his artfully rumpled brown hair.

He let out a choked cry, falling backwards to land on the cold stone floor, staring at his hands in horror. They were clenched and unmoving, and the paralysis was quickly spreading from his extremities to the rest of his new body. "No! No!" he screamed. His neck clenched, his mouth freezing into place as had the rest of his newly-acquired body, his expression one of of thwarted, impotent rage.

Hermione touched his frozen, indignant face, placing her palm to his cheek. "It is my duty to release the souls to my Lord Father's keeping, but alas, it seems as if your soul is fragmented. I cannot release an incomplete soul, so I will leave you here," she said, tilting her head as though trying to ascertain some great knowledge. "Tom. You will be preserved here in perpetuity as you continue to cheat my Father. Ever so slowly, your magic will be drained into the very firmament of this most sacred place, and it, in turn, will grow more powerful, while you—" Hermione's eyes closed slowly as she placed her circle back over her eerie, glowing eyes. "While you, Tom, become what you hate the most: unmagical, unremarkable, and undeserving."

"This was never the purpose of this chamber, to be fair," Hermione said, running her fingers across his screaming, frozen face. "I learned a great many things quite recently, most of which I will not remember tomorrow, but that's okay. Tomorrow, I start anew, and you— well, I fear I won't remember you either. Alas, who will tell the world above that you are here in this long-forgotten chamber?"

Hermione tapped his nose. "Not I, most assuredly."

Hermione tilted her head as if listening intently to something. "I fear my father says it is quite past my bedtime. You will have to excuse me, hrm?"

Hermione held out her hands and started to work her way past the statuary fountains.

Lucius, who had been standing there with his jaw open and working like a landed fish gasping for air, suddenly stumbled forward. "My Lady," he stammered. "I have a cane—"

Hermione turned her head, looking at him. Her hand reached out to touch the cane. Her fingers caressed the snake head with curiosity. "Your wand is housed in here?"

Lucius nodded and then seemed to realise how ludicrous he was being. "Yes, but— I can remove it when I touch the jeweled eyes and slide it off the handle."

Hermione's fingers curiously worked over it, pressing in the gems of the snake head. With a click, Lucius' wand appeared. She ran her hands over it, her head weaving back and forth like a serpent listening to a flute. She gently slid the wand off the clasp and held it out for him. "Thank you," she said with a shy smile, putting the cane back together.

"If you will allow me, my Lady," Lucius said, taking the cane and tapping it with his wand. It elongated into the longer and more sensitive staff that the blind tended to favour.

Hermione tapped the cane experimentally and smiled. "Thank you— forgive me, I heard your name was Lucius, but your voice is deeper, like an adult. Would you give me your name that I might address you properly?"

"Malfoy," Lucius answered. "Lucius Malfoy."

Hermione's head lifted up slightly at his name. "I thank you, Lord Malfoy."

"You have saved my life and the lives of my family— my son and my wife," Lucius said. "You may call me Lucius, in all things."

Hermione stroked the head of the cane and nodded. "Thank you, Lucius. I will admit it will be much easier to say."

Lucius let out a dry laugh, slightly strained, but genuine.

"I am— Hermione," Hermione said awkwardly. "As much as I might have dreamed as young child to be royalty, I feel like I am in another world when said in relation to myself."

"Perhaps, I can assist you, Hermione," Lucius said. He tugged on his collar. "I fear I have come to a rather startling epiphany quite recently. One, is that the things I believed in were rubbish. Two, I owe you a debt of gratitude I cannot repay, but I plan to try."

"Luci—"

"Hermione," Lucius said evenly. "This is one thing I want to do. The last few years, decades even, I have always done what someone else wanted me to do. This is my choice. I will assist you as I can in this world, teach you what you need to make your way in the circles that you currently do not understand. The Dark Lord knew all of these things. He knew them so well he could charm us all into following him without question. Then, one day, his requests were no longer polite, he began to make demands of us and there was no way out. You either carried out his orders or you and, very often, your entire family, would die a most agonizing death. My wife and my son— I would do _anything_ to keep them safe. He knew this, and he knew all of our deepest secrets, including which ones we couldn't bear to have revealed. So I and many others were dragged into his service against our will."

Lucius' grey eyes looked haunted. "Only Severus and Narcissa, my wife, knows this, but my father, Abraxas, forced me to take the Mark. This terrible writhing darkness on my left arm. He found out what test the Dark Lord would require of me, and he Imperiused his own son into carrying it out. I woke the next morning, covered in blood and the Dark Mark emblazoned so proudly on my badly burned arm. My father then had me married off immediately. Lord Cygnus Black believed I was finally _worthy_ of his youngest daughter's hand."

"I loved her," Lucius confessed. "He had denied my courtship for months, saying I didn't have the stones to be a real man. So my father set out to prove me worthy. And then, I could do nothing else put play the game and pray the Dark Lord never found out my secret."

Hermione reached out with one hand, her fingers brushing against his hand, and she clasped it gently. "I am truly sorry, Lucius."

"How can you be sorry when I very nearly murdered you," Lucius asked, his face haunted.

Hermione shook her head. "My parents are both dead. Shortly after I arrived here, their car was hit by a drunk driver when they were driving home from a dinner out with some friends. They didn't make it. Perhaps, had I not been grieving, I would have not been sitting on that bench like a perfectly wrapped sacrifice. Perhaps not, but I feel that all things happen for a reason. If this had not happened, we would not be having this conversation."

Lucius inhaled sharply. "I would like to discuss what has happened today with my family, Hermione, but I think that I may have a solution for your situation that could be mutually beneficial."

Hermione tapped the can on the stone a few times, pondering. "Perhaps after I get out of this deathtrap, Lucius?"

Lucius tapped her hand and guided it around his arm. "Please allow me to assist you, Hermione."

* * *

Hermione was looking very small and very alone on the infirmary bed as Poppy ran a series of diagnostic scans.

"Are you feeling dizzy at all, Hermione?"

"No, ma'am," Hermione answered politely.

"Okay, I have my goggles on, child," Poppy said. "I'm going to examine your eyes, okay?"

Hermione clutched the hand nearby, and Severus looked quite discomfited at this, but he looked to Lucius, who was slowly shaking his head at him. "Okay."

Poppy lifted the circlet and gasped at what she saw as she scanned the young girl's eyes. "Dear Merlin, child! What happened to you?"

"I fell down a long hole and something burned my eyes. I couldn't see. Then I woke up like this. Lord Malfoy found me aimlessly wandering the halls and brought me to Professor Snape," Hermione told the kindly matron, weaving the half-truths together into a cohesive unit.

Poppy sighed. "This school has a great many secrets, child, and not all of them are kind, I fear. I am glad to find that you are relatively uninjured."

Hermione squinted in the light, flicking her serpentine eye slits this way and that. "Professor Snape says perhaps contacts laced with the proper potions and healing shields could filter my— gaze?"

Poppy nodded. "It was a project we worked on long ago, but we never released it because the last person who had this issue was a half-gorgon. The petrifying gaze was the least of her problems, I fear."

"Your eyes are otherwise perfectly healthy, Hermione. They are simply quite deadly. I can put the contacts in over your irises and make them look more— well, human. I can then place your circlet back over them to let the innate magic seal them to your corneas. In the meantime, we can simply say you had a very bad potions accident."

Snape harrumphed at that.

Poppy shrugged. "It will take a few days for them to seal, but once it does, you will be able to function just as normally as you did before. I would have you go and stare at a rodent or something to make sure they are working."

"Okay," Hermione agreed, squirming herself into a more comfortable position.

"Just lean back now, child," Poppy instructed. "This will take some time to layer and then we'll pour the sealing potions over your eyes.

The process took a few hours altogether, and Hermione didn't let go of Snape's hand the entire time. The Potion Master seemed quite baffled by the change from frightened student (of him) to frightened student needing him to hold her hand for emotional support. Then again, Lucius had told Hermione who he trusted, and oddly the two had formed a strangely tight bond in a remarkably short period of time.

Fawkes arrived halfway through, and he snuggled into the girl with a sleepy warble and yawn. The phoenix seemed pleased to find her surrounded by people, and he rubbed his head against her cheek quite affectionately.

Strange, he thought. Fawkes had never shown any affection to a student before.

Poppy examined all of Hermione's tattoos as well, marveling at how very lifelike they were. Hermione had no tenderness or any telltale signs of magical trauma, which would have been a true sign of Dark Magic. The black markings were deep and highly detailed. Bone wings detailed down her back, looking as though they could unfurl at any moment. The serpent, however, curved around every part of her body, making it look like she was covered in living scales. Strangely, the eyes of the serpent were sealed shut.

When Poppy was done setting the magical overlays across Hermione's eyes, she covered them with the circlet once more, charming it so it would not come off unless Hermione herself willed it to do so.

When it was time for Hermione to return to Gryffindor tower, it became clear that she was not any more welcome there after her injury than before. Her dorm-mates sealed the door to their room so she couldn't come in, then she fell down the stairs when someone "accidentally" left something out for her to trip over, and these obstacles would somehow avoid Hermione's walking cane only to reposition themselves and trip her.

At one point, her wand showed up embedded into the topmost portrait of Sir Cadogan and her walking cane turned up broken into pieces and scattered down the hallway with Hermione desperately trying to feel around for it. Whenever she tried to stay in the library to study and read, practicing the text into mind spell Madam Pince taught her so she could read the books by touching the print, someone would find her and cast a sticking charm so her hands would stick to the pages. Hermione would suffer in distress and in silence until Madam Pince found her and taught her how to dispel it.

Every night, Hermione would carefully feel her way to the dungeons and sit with her hands around her knees in front of Snape's chamber door— having recognised the scent of smoke and herbs that always lingered on his robes. She would wait there quietly until he returned, and had anyone been brave enough to look, they would have seen a twinge of sympathy on the Potion master's usually impassive face.

To top off the humiliation, her walking cane was far from ordinary. Its craftsmanship alone combined with the distinctive goblin silver serpent head, had many students whispering all around her. Snape, McGonagall, and Flitwick had all taken turns fixing the broken walking cane, which would always seem to happen in some random hallway they didn't patrol in at that given hour. It took Dumbledore doing a trace on the walking cane to root out who the culprits there, and much to Hermione's heartbreak and shame, it came back to people in her very own house.

Finally, on the night it was finally deemed safe to remove the blindfold, Hagrid brought a cage filled with rodents that had been infiltrating his hut for her to experiment on.

"They all hate me," Hermione sobbed, unable to put a lid on the feeling of total despair that came with being so different from everyone else.

"They are simply jealous," Snape sighed. "Or fearful. Either way, it is not your fault, Miss Granger."

Hermione looked rather dubious, but shook her head anyway.

"Okay, the rodent cage is directly in front of you. Take off your blindfold and look at all of them, then put your blindfold back on," Snape directed. "Surely one of the creatures will look you in the eyes to test if the overlay has fully set."

Hermione did as she was instructed, knowing that he had turned his back to her to avoid any possible accidents. While she could still see energy and magic with her eyes covered, it wasn't quite the same as seeing the way she had grown up.

She stared into the cage, but most of the rodents were crammed in too tightly for any to move around, much less look her way. She turned the cage to try and look at any one of them in the face. All of them looked unimpressed. "They are crammed in too tightly," Hermione said, mildly frustrated. "They can't move around to look at me."

"Pass me the cage," Severus told her, putting his hand out without looking. He shuffled it around a moment and stunned a rodent with his wand and levitated towards her. The stun seemed to be wearing off unusually quickly, and Hermione ended up having to make a grab for it. The rat bit her finger, struggling to escape with all his might.

Hermione yelped, startled, as blood began seeping out from her wounded finger. Red was mixed with strands of shimmering silver and green: the proof of a very different sort of magic flowing through her body— hardly something Poppy would have been testing for.

The rat squeaked in terror, it's body twitching and convulsing. Hermione dropped it with a cry of horror. "Professor Snape!" she squeaked out as she hastily covered her eyes and backed away.

"I covered my eyes!" she cried.

Snape wasted no time, turning around keeping his eyes down just in case, but he didn't have to wait long. The rat was rapidly elongating, twisting, transforming. Human feet and human hands formed. A man's bulbous head shifted from giant rat to rat-like human. The man screamed shrilly, sounding more like a rat than a man.

"Pettigrew!" Snape hissed venomously, casting a chain of spells one after another.

"Stupefy!"

"Petrificus Totalis!"

"Incarcerous!"

"Colloshoo!"

He snarled, and the man-rat slammed into the far wall, face first with a resounding crack after his shoes stuck to the floor with a squelching sound.

Hermione was trembling, visibly frightened, and Snape pulled her close, cradling her head to his robes just in case her circlet wasn't on. She seemed to realise his concern and buried her pale face into his robes even deeper.

Snape help her against him until she stopped trembling, allowing her to regain control before attempting to deal with Pettigrew. Her hands began to reach out to feel his face, and he froze to allow her to ascertain his facial expression. She frowned as he did, but she didn't seem too disturbed.

"You are hurt," Snape said softly, pulling her hand to his. "Let me tend to it."

Hermione nodded, trying not to tremble as he poured a cool liquid on it and wrapped it with a small cloth bandage.

"As much as I would enjoy watching you test your eyes on this rat, Miss Granger, I fear it is not the best course of action," Snape said with a sigh. He sent a Patronus zinging out of the room, and Hermione tracked it with her head even without being able to "see" it.

"Miss Granger?"

Hermione's head lifted with a snap.

"Did you sense my Patronus?"

Hermione stared at floor, clutching his robes tightly.

"Miss Granger, I am not angry with you," Snape said. " Did you sense it?"

Hermione nodded slowly.

"There is nothing wrong with this, Miss Granger," Snape said, trying to get through to her. Then, remember something Lucius had said, changed tactics. "Hermione," he said softly.

Hermione lifted her head again, her death grip on his robes loosening slightly.

"I will keep your secrets, M— Hermione," Severus told her seriously but not unkindly. "Here, in my chambers or my office or when no one else is near, you may call me Severus."

Hermione's eyes as went wide as saucers.

"I was once— tormented by students at Hogwarts," Severus confessed slowly, watching her response. "This man here, was one of them. "There are many things I would wish upon him, but, I cannot act upon it. I know what it is like to have a secret that burns inside. I know what it is like to put on a brave face when things are not going well."

Hermione swallowed hard and nodded.

"When you get your vision back, I know things may not suddenly fix themselves. If you need a place to run, Hermione, you may come and find me. I promise you, I will not be angry, no matter what time it is or where I am. If that fails, you may let yourself into my office in the classroom. I will key you into the wards. Tip over the black rook on my desk, and I will know you are there."

Hermione nodded, clear relief in her eyes. It was obvious that her initial rather dubious opinion of her Potions professor was rapidly evolving. Snape was becoming a safe place, which was becoming clearer to Severus as time passed.

"Minerva has been off at the Ministry trying to sort out the mountain of paperwork to allow her to adopt you officially," Severus stated. "I believe you discussed this with her?"

"Yes, Pr— Severus," Hermione replied.

"I assure you, she will be raining hell and handbaskets all over Gryffindor tower when she returns and realises that you have been bullied by her own cubs," Severus reassured her. "She is many things, but she is not a fool, nor is she oblivious. Here at Hogwarts, children of professors are allowed to cohabitate. Most choose to live in the dorms because most children want to be away from their parents, but I think, perhaps, you will prefer this?"

Hermione nodded rapidly.

Severus looked far away and then seemed to come back to himself. "Minerva was my safe place, Hermione. The only one I had, but even she could not be everywhere. For I was Slytherin, and sadly, I was not her son."

Hermione yawned and then looked utterly aghast that she had just yawned right in her professor's face.

"I must take this rat to the Headmaster's office. The Aurors will have arrived by now," Severus said. "If you promise to not touch anything in my chambers save the couch and the loo, I will let you stay here until I return and then escort you to Madam Pince. She has volunteered after she noted your situation, a safe place to stay until your adoption goes through, yes?"

Hermione nodded, looking more relaxed.

Severus pulled a pillow and duvet out from the cabinet and enlarged the sofa to be a bed.

"Many things in my chambers are warded, Hermione. Do not touch anything I have not given you permission to do so. Am I clear?"

Hermione nodded again

He pulled out a set of his own robes and shrunk them down with his wand. "I fear I do not have any pajamas suitable for a female, so you will have to do with this."

Hermione pulled it close and looked relieved.

Severus waited, back turned, as she dressed and hopped into the makeshift bed. He nodded to her, cast a spell on Pettigrew to levitate him, and hooked his finger around the rat-man's collar to drag Pettigrew along with him.

As it turned out, Hermione was out like a light soon after.

* * *

 _ **Not So Dead After All**_

 _Peter Pettigrew was brought up on charges in front of the Wizengamot after recently being found very much alive and masquerading as a perfectly ordinary rat at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

 _Pettigrew, who appears to be an illegal rat Animagus, was questioned by Aurors under Veritaserum as to the infamous events some ten years previous: the murder of thirteen Muggles on a busy street in London._

 _Pettigrew, who seemed all too eager to talk about the incident, confessed to shamefully betraying his friends James and Lily Potter to YKW, framing Sirius Black for their murder as well as his own, and then scampering off to become the familiar for a certain Wizarding family whose names have been protected at the time of this edition._

 _Sirius Black, who has protested his innocence since his initial incarceration, is scheduled to be released within the next few days. His funds, assets, and property have all been released along with accrued back pay from his position as a Ministry Auror at the time of his capture as an alleged mass murderer._

 _Pettigrew was arrested after being forced out of his Animagus form after a training session with a Hogwarts student happened to reveal his Animagus status in front of multiple witnesses. Professor Severus Snape instantly restrained and apprehended the newly-revealed Animagus and alerted the Aurors and Headmaster immediately._

 _Professor Snape has been recommended for an Order of Merlin First Class for his part in apprehending Pettigrew alive for questioning. Hogwarts student, Hermione Jean McGonagall, has been recommended for an Order of Merlin Second Class for her initial reveal of Pettigrew's presence in the school, living among our own children, no less!_

 _Pettigrew has been sentenced to life in Azkaban for his crimes, and there is some talk of administering the Dementor's Kiss. Ironically, due to no other cells being currently available at Azkaban, the only unoccupied cell in which to place Pettigrew was the cell once occupied by the newly-freed Sirius Black. Pettigrew will be fitted with a Animagus suppression bracelet to prevent any possibility escape via his rat form._

 _Sirius Black is being given a thorough mental and physical wellness exam as well as any therapy he might require for his stay in Azkaban, completely free of charge. His official status as godfather to the Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter, has been fully restored. We at the Prophet wish Lord Sirius Black well and hope he makes a swift recovery from the trauma induced by his near-decade of incarceration for crimes that he did not commit._

* * *

As weeks passed, Hermione forgot more and more about what had happened in the Chamber of Secrets and instead exchanged them for memories of having meals with Minerva and being able to walk around without a walking cane or a circlet over her eyes. Perhaps the biggest change was being able to sleep in her own bed again and not have to dread some sort of prank happening.

Hermione woke often with Fawkes cuddled up next to her face and Sithiss curled around her entire bed, laying her huge head on the top of the mattress and causing it to tilt.

In the quiet moments, Sithiss would teach her about the Dark, and Fawkes would teach her about the Light. They would bid her close her eyes and see things without her outer-vision. Slowly but surely, she was becoming better at it, but every so often she would mess it up and misread the energy around her, confusing a cloud of bats flying around the castle with an energy attack, or misread Light energy and fire energy due to their similar colours.

Hermione, while now officially welcome in the Gryffindor common room, much preferred to stay with Professor McGonagall, and now that she was officially adopted, she was allowed to stay with any of the other professors as well whenever Minerva was occupied with her Deputy Headmistress duties.

While studious in everything she was being taught, there still were times when Hermione botched her spells, and one such spell caused the Gryffindor tower to be overrun with a flood of spiders of every shape and size. The terrified arachnids came flooding out of every nook and cranny, trying to make a bee-line for the window en masse. She filled Ravenclaw tower with massively replicating Bertie Bott's Every-Flavour Beans, and the Hufflepuff dorms with about a metre of highly-realistic badger plushies that squeaked when you squeezed them. Slytherin woke up one morning up to their chests in chocolate frogs, and the rest of the school wondered why they couldn't be so lucky as to be almost buried alive in tasty snacks. Hermione accidentally filled Minerva's sitting room with jacks that had been turned into a family of river otters, and it was only when Minerva let her keep one that Hermione agreed to banish the rest. Madam Pinch was positively ecstatic when half of her books started to bite students who dared to talk in the library, and Minerva had to remind her errant daughter that attacking fellow students with animate objects did not help them to study properly.

Hermione seemed dubious, but she listened to her mother, regardless.

Severus "accidentally" mentioned a spell that allowed cauldrons to "cuddle" an unfortunate victim, and Ronald Weasley ended up screaming bloody murder as the entire classroom of cauldrons tried to sit on him and cuddle him. One cauldron, which had the remnants of a NEWT student's old experimental potion inside, cuddled him a little too enthusiastically, and Ron ended up with colour-shifting hair that turned a very unflattering neon green whenever he lied and he broke into matching green spots when he did it again.

Minerva seemed somewhat suspicious as to the particular circumstances leading up to Ronald's unfortunate condition, but seeing him repeatedly break out in green convinced her that he most likely deserved what he got.

Dumbledore seemed far too busy deflecting all the parental concern about Death Eaters lurking among their children at Hogwarts, but he was keeping them at bay for the most part by painting Pettigrew as a very odd exception. He had, Dumbledore reminded them, fooled a wizarding family for almost a decade without ever once revealing his true identity.

Minerva allowed Lucius to visit on the weekends and teach Hermione Wizarding social structure and etiquette, and while the cat Animagus was very curious as to why Lucius seemed to have inexplicably turned over a brand new leaf, she wasn't complaining either. After watching them together very carefully for weeks, she realised that Lucius was genuinely fond of Hermione, so much so that he had sharply reprimanded his son for his rather "disgusting behaviour" that he additionally deemed to be "unbecoming to the name of Malfoy." It wasn't until she actually _heard_ Hermione call Lucius by his Christian name that she realised the depth of the bond between them, and a part of Minerva's understandable paranoia was eased at last.

Hermione began to spend a considerable amount of time with Severus in the dungeons, studying quietly in the corner as he graded. Sometimes when she finished her homework, and Severus was never one to shirk checking over her efforts, he would teach her something new about Potions. Sometimes, he would share, albeit anonymously, bits and pieces of particularly horrible student essays that had Hermione giggling hysterically. Severus, whose expressions rarely seemed to change for most observers would let a small smile quirk the corners of his lips. This made Hermione beam even harder, try harder, and do what she could to see it again. He would sternly remind her that memorising the book was _not_ the same as learning the material, and gradually, she began to do much less hand waving in all of her classes until she had pondered the question and her answer quite thoroughly.

Quite often, Severus would return to Minerva's quarters with a peacefully sleeping Hermione cradled in his arms or affixed to his trousers like a burr. Minerva would allow him to tuck her into bed, shaking her head at the growing changes in her adopted daughter and even the changes her presence was bringing about at Hogwarts.

To keep Hermione focused with her insatiable curiosity, Minerva began to teach her the Animagus meditations. Hermione took to it like a duckling to water, dutifully walking around with her mandrake leaf stuck to the roof of her mouth for a month.

Many of the faculty would find her sitting in windows in meditation or out on the green doing much the same. The faculty were forming a betting pool, wondering if she would be like her mother or branch out into something else. Most of them were convinced that she would shift in record time, either meeting or beating Minerva's record of five months from start to shift.

Sure enough, as spring began to surge over the land and the willow shed all of its snow, a fledgling thunderbird perched atop the parapets of Hogwarts with Fawkes, warbling and rawking to each other. Minerva had her registered before her daughter even touched down for the first time, sending off the registration forms with all due haste. No daughter of Minerva McGonagall was going to be an illegal and unregistered Animagus.

One odd trait of being a thunderbird seemed to be that she acted like a natural bug-light. Passing insects would zap themselves on her aura and fall to the ground, stunned. She was so effective that Professor Kettleburn occasionally "borrowed" her to tend his garden and rid it of slugs, weevils, grubs, and any other random pests or blood-suckers. Snape took her out when he wanted to collect shed fairy wings and other such potions ingredients found deep within the Forbidden Forest. The centaurs, who were perpetually plagued by flies and biting insects far more often than they cared to admit, gratefully welcomed the avian bug-zapper into their herd with open arms.

When Hermione's tail feathers began to darken and the tips of her primaries turned a stunning crimson red, Kettleburn noticed that if she stayed in one place sunning herself, storm clouds would soon start to gather. Dark, ominous thunderheads would roll in, and if she beat her wings just so, the storms would blow and lightning would strike her. Kettleburn had immediately come running out, absolutely frantic that the young bird was not ready for that kind of powerful electric punch to the face, but Hermione just shook off her wings as energy rippled and crackled off of them. Severus had commented to her that her enemies would be hard pressed to fight a witch whose gaze was lethal, but whose ability to summon thunder, lightning, and heavy winds was probably going to keep those who wanted to prank her very few and far between. Still, few people other than the professors and Pomfrey know of her gaze's lethality, and Hermione liked it that way. She still felt very much ostracised at it was, at least amongst her peers. Thankfully, her bond to the faculty members was only getting stronger, and no one in the student body wanted to piss off Hermione's notoriously wrathful Scottish mother. Even taking a lightning bolt to the arse seemed preferable to facing the wrath of Minerva McGonagall. Rumour had it that, when McGonagall rained her righteous wrath down upon you, that she would bite you square on the arse, causing you to pee bright red for an entire month and go about singing soppy Scottish love ballads to random people and objects. No one really wanted to risk that.

Shortly before the summer holidays, Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley ended up in the infirmary. Many speculated that the pair had been mauled by a rogue bear out in the Forbidden Forest before rolling downhill into a pile of broken butterbeer bottles. Some people suspected they had been out to the bog and were attacked by a random kelpie, but the thoroughly embarrassed boys refused to share the story of just what had gotten them both injured.

The last Quidditch game of the year arrived shortly after Harry had managed to heal up from his mysterious injuries. Hermione was about as interested in the entire affair as a Niffler surrounded in lead bricks, and all the conflicting auras were giving her an awful migraine.

Harry proved to be quite the the stellar seeker, catching the snitch in mid air and waving it triumphantly, narrowly avoiding a barrage of bludgers and slamming into one of the watchtowers.

"Something is happening to Harry's broom!" a voice cried out in a panic.

Hermione looked up quickly at that. Suspecting trouble, she closed her eyes, taking a closer look at what was happening with her inner gaze. Magical energy was twisting and surging around Harry's broom, causing it to violently buck and then stall. Tendrils of darker magic left a trail leading right back to the stands. It wasn't Dark magic per se as much as it wasn't the kind of magic that anyone wanted around their broom. But the magic was most definitely malicious in nature, she could sense that pretty easily.

Harry's broom had shaken him off and he was now precariously hanging from it by his hands. People were screaming and yelling frantically all around the stands.

Hermione contemplated all of the things she could do, but short of zapping the one doing it with lightning, which was not going to make her mother happy at all even if it _was_ warranted in her opinion, there was really nothing in particular presenting itself as a better solution.

Instead, she stood up, and facing the stands where the professors were, she set about the kind of most blatant display of hand-waving that never failed to annoy Severus.

Sure enough, Severus glared at her, but he also focused on her, seemingly realising she had outgrown the silly hand-waving long before this. She pointed towards the one in the stands she had traced the malicious magic to using her elbow like she was cheering obnoxiously.

Severus seemed to get the message, and he nudged Minerva with his arm. Both professors stared into the opposite stands, wands out.

The Headmaster was standing up now, pointing his wand and chanting something in an attempt to stabilise the broom. Harry seemed to slow his broom a little, bringing it closer to the ground so he wouldn't fall to a rather painful and messy death. Minerva transfigured the ground under Harry into a giant pit filled with colorful, cushiony balls of fluff. Severus then sent a counterspell singing out towards the opposite stands, and shortly thereafter Cormac McLaggen's wand went sailing out of the stands onto the pitch below.

Every Gryffindor around him stared at the offender with disbelief as the rest of the stands sighed with relief as a relieved Harry crash landed into the pit of plush balls. He climbed out with the snitch still grasped tightly in his hand, basking in the moment as the spectators cheered.

As Hermione looked towards Harry, she saw something she didn't expect. Harry was looking straight at her, and he nodded his head to her. Somehow, despite all the commotion, he had see her trying to help him.

When everyone started to return back to their dorms, Hermione affixed herself tightly to Severus and Minerva, feeling the odd stares coming her way. The moment Severus' robes curled protectively around her, the feel of being watched immediately stopped. They all walked back to Hogwarts together, Hermione with her hands gripping Minerva and Severus' hands tight. If anyone believed her actions to be inappropriate, no one seemed inclined to make note of it.

When Harry walked out of the crowd of cheering fans he approached Hermione with a steady walk. Hermione swallowed hard and attempted to burrow into Severus and her mother, practically radiating her distress.

Something like remorse flickered across Harry's pale face as he approached her, and he seemed to realise that while others believed him a fairly innocuous sort, Hermione obviously did _not_. He flashed out his hands, waving them neutrally.

Hermione grasped Severus and Minerva' hands tightly.

"Mr Potter," Severus said, his eyes narrowing. "Is there something you require?"

Harry twitched, obviously thinking that McGonagall would have been better than Snape. Anyone would have been better than being interrogated by Snape. The crowd that had been following Harry seemed to take one look at Snape and start to shuffle off back to Hogwarts in any direction _but_ forward.

"Hermione, I wanted to say thank you, for trying to help me out there.I saw it, and I really— " Harry fidgeted. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I took part in—" He trailed off.

"Tormenting a blind, recently orphaned girl, Mr Potter?" Severus said in a low growl.

Minerva perked at this, narrowing her eyes into a tight glare.

Harry flinched. "I'm sorry I tripped you, Hermione. I'm sorry for laughing when I knew you were hurting. I wanted to feel like I belonged too, but if anyone should have known what it's like to be an orphan— I'm sorry, Hermione."

Hermione looked to him and then shuffled closer to Snape, her hand tightening around his.

"I think, Mr Potter," Minerva said coolly, "that if you wish forgiveness from my daughter it would be best shown in deeds rather than mere words,"

Harry looked up at Snape's thunderous expression and visibly shrank back. "I'm going to try to be a better person, Hermione. I mean it."

Someone nearby was heckling, "Why are you talking to the little freak girl, Potter?"

Harry snarled back at them, "Leave her alone! She tried to save my life. That's more than any of you lot did."

Surprised and angry muttering came as part of the crowd began to disperse and head back into the castle for dinner.

Harry seemed to realise that Hermione needed some time before she could even process or consider his apology, and he hung his head down in shame. He scurried up the path back towards the school, his gaggle of fans moving in to re-assimilate him.

Hermione loosened her death grip on both Severus and Minerva's hands. Minerva looked at her with concern. "You alright, lass?"

Hermione nodded, silent, but more upbeat.

As they came back to the school and settled around the Great Hall for dinner, Hermione attempted to give sitting a little closer to the other students a try rather than her somewhat isolated place at the end of the table.

"Hey, the weird bint is here," someone chortled. "Maybe she can wave her hands around and signal dragons to crash-land on the tables!"

Hermione, who had just lifted a forkful of cut melon to her mouth, immediately dropped her fork and fled the table, rushing out the back of the Great Hall.

A few people made 'loser' gestures with their fingers and slapped them to their heads while chuckling raucously.

"You leave Hermione alone!" Harry cried out, flushing red with anger. "She hasn't done anything to you!"

"Unless you mean exist,"someone snorted.

Suddenly, an ominous dark shadow was cast over their section of the table. Dark, smoldering eyes glared across the table as pale hands snatched up Ronald Weasley and Seamus Finnegan by the collars and pulled them up out of their chairs. "Seeing as you are both incapable of following the adage 'If you can't say something nice, say nothing at all,' I think that perhaps you should ponder its merits in detention, Mr Weasley, Mr Finnigan. Seeing as the two of you just sent someone fleeing the Great Hall in tears, I think a letter to your respective parents are also in order. And before you puff up and say you did nothing wrong, I will gladly enclose memories of your most recent conversation, which you were so helpful in blurting out so very loudly."

Ronald and Seamus paled significantly.

"After you inhale your dinners with your distasteful lack of manners, you will serve detention with me, tonight, in the Potions classroom, where you will be scrubbing cauldrons with fine-toothed brushes, entirely without magic and without the benefit of your dragonhide gloves. Perhaps, this will give you focus. Oh, did I forget to mention that the cauldrons in question are from your own deplorable attempts at brewing Swelling Solution? While any exposed appendages might indeed swell up to a massive degree, at least the effects will not be… permanent."

Snape scowled at them both and then swept the Great Hall, his dark, billowing robes seeming even more menacing than before.

* * *

That night, when Snape carried a sleeping Hermione back to Minerva's quarters to tuck her in for the night, Minerva put a hand on Severus' shoulder.

"Thank you for being there for her, Severus."

Severus looked into the darkened bedroom that Hermione had been safely tucked into. "Thank you, Minerva, for being there for me."


	2. Oh Brother Where Art Thou

**A/N:** It might be said that it is better to be pissed on than face a pissed off basilisk.

 **Beta Love:** The Dragon and the Rose, Dutchgirl01

 **Warning:** Ronald Weasley is not a great fella in this, sorry.

 **Kiss of the Basilisk**

 **Chapter 2**

 **Oh Brother, Where Art Thou?**

 _A friend loveth at all times,_

 _And a brother is born for adversity._

 _-King Solomon_

Hermione opened her eyes to find herself in her room, and she was drooling on Sithiss. The basilisk seemed amused, and Hermione flushed in embarrassment.

Sithiss extended her tongue to tickle her face, and Hermione giggled. The great serpent barely fit in her room. Part of her tail was trailing into the loo, and she almost didn't have enough room to swivel her head about. The room was very warm due to her unusual reptilian body heat, and Hermione enjoyed the scent of her. She smelled of earth and water. She could close her eyes and see the thrum of her energy all around her, the giant coils moving fluidly, almost like ripples across a lake.

Hermione yawned. Today was the day that everyone went back home for the summer hols, and thus they would all be crowded in Hogsmeade, waiting to take the Hogwarts Express back to London. Hermione, however, wouldn't be joining them, as her home was no longer in London. Strangely, the gaping wounds that came with remembering her parents' deaths didn't seem quite so raw and painful as before. While a part of her still deeply missed her parents, a part of her realised that had she been at school, attending normally, she would have been parted from them for the majority of the year anyway. The only difference now was— she wouldn't get to see them again. Yet, even as that thought settled in, she realised she had something that was slowly filling the gaping holes in her heart. Minerva cared for her deeply, and it seemed that most of the professors at Hogwarts had now become her family just as much as they were her teachers. Now that summer was here, many of them would be living away from Hogwarts, but the Deputy Headmistress had many things to take care of under the roof of Hogwarts, so that meant she remained in pretty much permanent residence.

Severus, too, had a great deal of potion brewing to do over the summer months, as he needed to replenish the stocks for Poppy and Pomona. Poppy needed a vast array of healing potions, and Pomona needed certain fertilizers and nutrient mixes for some of her more finicky plants. Hermione eagerly looked forward to being able to learn more about that, and Snape had promised her he would allow her help him brew, provided that she listened carefully and followed his instructions to the letter.

Hermione didn't mind that at all. She found that, underneath his demanding and exacting demeanour, there was a clear reason for that strictness. However, after the brewing had been completed for the day, he would allow her to ask questions, and then, and only then, he would explain how some things could have been tweaked. Her job, however, was to learn the proper way. Tweaking would be something she learned later when all the basics were drilled into her cranium on a molecular level. Oddly, this didn't bother Hermione. The one-on-one instruction made her feel safe, and her bond with the dour-seeming wizard was growing quickly by leaps and bounds.

Rolanda had offered to teach her flying while others were not there to stare at and mock her, and she double mounted with her to help her feel more secure. Hermione found that much more comforting, and she began to rather enjoy the feel of flying on a broom.

Minerva and Severus seemed to realise that Hermione was someone who thrived on one-on-one teaching, and now that she was permitted to be underfoot all the time, the professors seemed quite willing to accommodate her. All of it was a great relief to Hermione, who admitted that it was far less stressful to learn when people weren't staring at her and whispering about her behind her back— or right to her face even.

 _Bushy-haired little freak._

 _Blind bint._

 _It's more that she exists, you see._

Ironically, they didn't even know the _real_ things that set her apart from the rest of them. Had they known what lay behind her magical contacts, she would be even more ostracised. Her blood, for instance, contained both phoenix tears and basilisk venom combined. As time passed, Sithiss was guiding her into the form she had taken only once— while wrapped in her Lord Father's embrace: the basilisk.

At first it was painful, so she only managed to do it a little at a time. Sometimes her fangs would erupt from her mouth first, and sometimes it would be the elongation of her spine and thinning of her bones. It _hurt_. A lot. Sithiss was with her the entire time, and Fawkes was nearby too. She panted, writhed, and tried to let the change take her over naturally, but the human part of Hermione was stubbornly clinging to the form she had been born into. The Animagus transformation was very different. It was painless and immediate, but the shift into the serpent was at a molecular level rather than entirely magical. Once she made the full shift, Sithiss said her body would start to remember the path, and then the change would be painful no longer. That was all fine and well, but it hurt like a bitch right here in this moment.

With a flurry of pops and cracks, stretching, and what could only be described as a sort of tearing, Hermione flopped on the floor of her room, draped over the massive coils of Sithiss. Her tongue flicked in and out, tasting the air as her vision tried to make sense of stronger heat and magic. The elongated slit down her nostrils, the pit that allowed her to sense thermal changes, sent a rush of detailed information to her brain. She struggled to make sense of it all— she had a version of it even as a human, thanks to her changes, but this serpentine intimacy was different. This was so much more.

Sithiss nuzzled her gently, rubbing her wedged head against Hermione, and she instinctively coiled herself around the larger basilisk's body, seeking her reassuring comfort and presence. Trying to move forward, however, that quickly proved to be something of a challenge.

Hermione tangled herself up in her desk and her four-poster bed, got tangled in the curtains, and ended up with a chair stuck over her body. Sithiss gently plucked the chair off her, hissing in amusement. Hermione slumped, feeling like a total idiot.

What she _really_ wanted was to be able to let Severus in on this little secret of hers. It wasn't that she didn't want her mother to know, but Severus seemed to truly understand some of the things she was going through— the ridicule for one, and pain of being different even without the more otherworldly things about her. Such as who her Lord Father was.

She could always sense him, her Lord Father, whenever she stilled her mind. His presence was warm like the sun on her back on a cool day. If anyone knew what she was thinking, they'd probably ostracise her even more. One did not take comfort from Death. Well— she was becoming a bit of a rule-breaker in that area.

Hermione sighed, the sound coming out as a prolonged hiss. Now what was she going to do?

"Hermione, are you decent?" Severus' voice came from behind the door. "Your mother had to leave for an early meeting."

Hermione panicked, thrashing about. Her tail flung a chair over to fly out the open window with a loud crash.

She hissed a chain of cursing that was probably not polite in two thousand of the three thousand known snake species throughout the world.

"Hermione?!" Severus' voice now sounded distinctly panicked, he was clearly fearful something terrible was happening to her just beyond the door. "I'm coming in!"

The door burst open, and Hermione hissed a panicked, "Close your eyes!"

She squeezed her eyes shut, praying that Sithiss didn't take offense at Severus invading her room.

The silence was deafening.

"Hermione?" Severus whispered, his voice trembling.

Hermione could see his heat imprint, and she slowly approached him. She lay her head against his lap as he suddenly crumpled to his knees before her. She imagined he had shut his eyes almost immediately.

Slowly, his hands drew across her scaled head. She flicked out her tongue, tickling his fingers.

 _Claim him as your ally,_ Sithiss directed. _Change your venom to change him._

 _How?_ Hermione asked.

 _Think of how he makes you feel. The emotion will help you to change your venom for him_.

Hermione hesitated. _But, he needs to be able to choose._

 _Ask him, child. If the bond is true, he will hear you._ Sithiss' voice was gentle. Dark she was, but she was neither pitiless nor unkind.

Hermione concentrated very hard. _Severus?_

Surprise registered in him via a clear change in his scent. "Hermione?"

 _Yes,_ she replied. _I wish to give you a gift. Immunity to—protect you._

Severus was not a trusting sort. Hermione knew this. She was asking a lot in a very little amount of time to come to terms. But a part of her felt safe with Severus, and she never wanted him to be fearful of her. Not him. Not ever.

"How?" Severus whispered.

 _I— would bite you,_ Hermione said. _The venom would not be the same. You would be changed— able to survive both gaze and venom._

Severus touched her body, running his hands across her smooth scales. He was silent, his mind working as his heart tried to make the decision for him, but Severus was hardly the person to let his heart override his mind. He had proven that by not killing Pettigrew when he had the chance.

They sat in silence, perhaps minutes or hours. His hands touched both Hermione and Sithiss, his fingers exploring the pits on Sithiss' giant head, the curve of her fangs, and ridges over her eyes.

"Do you trust me?" Severus whispered, his voice so very, very soft.

 _Yes,_ Hermione answered.

Severus's face twisted in some surging pain. "Then I will trust you, Hermione."

 _Think of your trust,_ Sithiss guided. _Think of his protection and how it made you feel._

Hermione thought of the feel of his hand as she held it, the smell of his robes as she hid in them, and the sleepy warmth she had when he would pull her into his arms and take her back to Minerva's chambers. She thought of the curve of his lips into a small smile, the dark, fathomless depth of his black eyes— wells of past pain but also something more: compassion.

She felt the venom gathering in her glands as very special fangs extended, unfolding from the roof of her mouth. She struck, nailing his squarely on the neck.

Severus spasmed, giving a short cry of pain as her fangs buried into his flesh, pumping the elixir of venom into his bloodstream. His hands clutched her to him, his arms wrapping around her sinuous body. He gasped, panting, writhing, thrashing on the ground.

Sithiss curled around him, cushioning his body, and Hermione projected her comfort. _I'm here. I'll always be here, as you are for me._

His body spasmed, bones cracking, shifting, lengthening, shortening and twisting. His eyes flew open, and orange and red were bleeding into the black fields of his eyes. "Haaaaaassssss!" he gasped. His head thrashed back and forth wildly, but then he froze, eyes locked on Hermione's sulfurous orbs.

His pupils narrowed into slits as orange and red swallowed them up. His face elongated as fangs emerged from his mouth. Scales sprouted all over his body as his body freed itself from his robes. His body elongated, grew, thrashed, and reformed.

"Hisssss!" he exclaimed, his tail thrashing as yet another of Hermione's abused chairs went flying out the window. Severus landed on the floor with a thump, his body draped across Sithiss as Hermione slithered up next to him and lovingly entwined herself around his body, radiating comfort.

Hermione's poor bedroom was getting awful crowded.

* * *

It took another few hours for Severus to figure out how to move without launching more furniture, and Hermione was, admittedly, learning how to navigate with her new body as well. It was really cramped in her poor bedroom, but Sithiss seemed quite amused and eager to teach them both.

Severus was startled by the basilisk matriarch now that his eyes could take her in. It was obvious the flood of new sensations was threatening to overload his brain, but the moment Hermione hissed slightly in concern and distress, he wrapped his coils around her protectively, and that seemed to calm him as well as her.

Sithiss seemed to approve of the bond between them, and when Fawkes arrived, he fluffed his feathers as he perched on Sithiss' head, bobbing his head in approval.

 _I am glad you found someone you truly trusted, Hermione,_ Fawkes said with approval. _Sithiss and I were hoping it would be him._

Hermione, despite being reptilian, flushed in embarrassment, trying to bury her head in Severus' coils.

 _How is this possible?_ Severus hissed, still slightly discombobulated.

 _Ever wondered how Salazar Slytherin could understand snakes? How he supposedly survived being around basilisks?_ Sithiss chuckled. _It is a gift we can bestow to those we have a true bond with, but it only works if there is a true emotional connection._

 _I am Sithiss_ , the basilisk introduced. _You and the evolved dinosaur already know each other, I presume._

Fawkes nailed the basilisk between the eyes with his beak.

Sithiss hissed laughter. _She cared for you very deeply. And somewhere inside, you felt the same, or it would not have worked. Our cherished ones should never fear us._

 _If I hadn't?_ Severus questioned.

Sithiss shook her head. _Fawkes would have saved you, but we were not worried._

Severus seemed a little discomfited by the amount of faith coming his way when he himself didn't feel like he could believe in himself.

Hermione was rubbing up against his body, her tongue flicking to taste his new scent and energy. Severus found himself doing the same, getting to know Hermione on an entirely new level. He felt protective of her and more determined than ever to keep her safe from the mechanizations of the group cliques in Hogwarts.

The younger basilisk was wrapping her coils around Sithiss and Severus, seemingly overly happy to have company in which she could be herself and all that it entailed. Both Sithiss and Severus laid their heads over Hermione's, causing her to settle.

Hermione hissed happily, content. Life was good.

* * *

It took Severus another hour to relax himself enough to make the shift back, and then he dove into the loo to redress himself, _Accio_ ing the robes he had burst out of during his transformation.

Sithiss chuckled. _With practice you can magic the clothes to remain through the change. It took Salazar a few months to get more than his locket to appear throughout the change._

Severus flushed a little, coming back fully dressed. Hermione was gazing out her window to the smashed furniture down below.

"Mum is going to murder me," Hermione moaned. "Those were two of her most favourite chairs."

"Levitate them up, and we can work on repairing them," Severus said, adjusting his collar. He hissed suddenly, grasping his arm.

"Severus, are you okay?" Hermione asked. She hurried over to touch his arm, pulling his sleeve up.

Severus jerked, instinctively trying to cover his arm, but Hermione didn't even seem to notice. She clasped it in her hands and crinkled her nose as a foul-smelling odour came from his arm. Black, nasty ooze was seeping out of his arm. Severus groaned as it dripped down his arm and onto the floor, turning in acrid black smoke as it bubbled and popped.

"Fawkes, help me," Hermione cried, distressed.

 _Let the blackness run out,_ _my chick,_ Fawkes instructed her, perching on her shoulder to inspect Severus' arm. _Once it is gone, I can set my tears upon his arm._

Hermione held his arm steady, clearly distressed, but did as she was told. Her trust in Fawkes was far greater than her emotional impulses. Tears were flowing down her cheeks.

 _Let them flow down upon the skin, my chick,"_ Fawkes guided her.

The blackness seemed to be done seeping, but it was as foul as ever as it gathered on the top of his skin, making his skin red and angry-looking. She let her tears flow over his arm, and she had cried many. They splashed over the skin, and where it touched the blackness, it immediately withdrew, screaming.

Hermione jolted in surprise and fear, but she struggled to hold onto Severus' arm. She splashed her tears against his skin, and Fawkes added his own to the mix.

Vile curses and screams came from the black corruption, but then it puffed into a stream of oily black smoke and dissipated. Silvery strands of light now shimmered over his skin and seemed to sink in, creating a delicate pattern of shimmering feathers and scales on his arm. It faded, barely visible in the light.

Severus gave a soft cry of wonder and sheer disbelief, his shaking fingers tracing the almost invisible lines of feathers and scales. He looked at Hermione with every emotion naked and clearly visible in his eyes. With a movement every bit as swift as a basilisk's strike, he pulled her to him, letting out a sob of joy mixed with genuine relief. "It's gone. Finally, it's _gone_."

Hermione wrapped her tiny arms around his waist and lay her head on his chest. While she had no idea what she had just witnessed, she felt as though something highly significant and very _right_ had happened. She decided that was good enough for her.

* * *

Severus was the first but not the only one converted into Hermione's closest and most cherished, trusted life-companions. Minerva embraced her daughter with open arms, somehow terribly relieved that Hermione was able to share such an intimate part of herself. She also seemed to grasp the sheer magnitude of the gift rather quickly.

Minerva persuaded the Board of Governors to allow her to expand her chambers, and it wasn't long before it was quite common to have a basilisk and phoenix pileup gathered in her chambers. Hermione seemed to enjoy being able to sleep nestled between her loved ones, and that made her far more willing to be outgoing outside of Minerva's zone of safety. Being a basilisk seemed to tear down the social barriers, and while Severus or even Minerva may have been somewhat less than cuddly in public, they seemed to take to looking after Hermione with great fervour and warmth.

When Minerva and Severus discovered that when their stronger emotions caused a bit of the basilisk to peak through, they both in turn laid down for Poppy to put the special lenses over their eyes as well.

Poppy, concerned that Hermione's condition might somehow be contagious, expressed her worries to them both.

Once their eyes had been shielded, Hermione had Poppy put on her shielded glasses, and led them all down into the Chamber of Secrets to tell her the whole story, accentuated by the "statue" of Tom Marvolo Riddle, his teenaged body, frozen with an expression of impotent rage on his young face, the drained diary which had fueled his rebirth, and the bloody dagger that had almost killed her. Telling, too, were the scorch marks upon the ground where Death himself had cradled her in her rebirth to His service.

Then, if such things were somehow not enough to persuade her, Sithis materialised before Poppy in all of her massive glory, lowering her enormous head to allow Severus, Hermione, and Minerva to stroke her shiny scaled head.

Much to her credit, Poppy only fainted _once_.

Poppy, after sitting down, babbling incoherently for a few minutes, and gulping down the glass of water that Severus had thoughtfully conjured for her, seemed to come to an understanding. Oddly, it was Hermione laying her serpentine head in her lap and allowing Poppy to stroke her head and body that seemed to cement the only truth that mattered to Poppy: basilisks were not mindless, bloodthirsty beasts after all, nor were they inherently evil. Dark, yes. Evil, no. And strangely, that had been a lesson that had eluded many such as her for a very long time.

It was Poppy who recommended that Riddle's petrified body be moved somewhere it was less likely to be found and _un_ petrified— even if the chances of that happening were exceedingly slim. Severus and Minerva agreed, and they pulled Lucius in to formulate a plan right out from the Headmaster's nose. They shrunk Riddle's statue-self down into pocket size and encased him entirely in amber. Lucius had it crafted into an endcap of a walking cane, enchanted it to be virtually indestructible, and then threw it the furthest reaches of his family vault, where he had a vat of continuously burbling lava that protected some of the more volatile artifacts left over from his father. The lava was "special" and could never solidify or cool, and every single one of his family members knew that if something was there, it was _not_ to be touched.

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief as they left the Malfoy vault that day.

Poppy was sworn in as their Secret-Keeper, and vowed that she would always keep their secrets safe. It wasn't long after this that Lucius was laying on one of her beds having his own lenses affixed, and Poppy teased that perhaps she needed to start charging for that particular service.

It wasn't too long after Lucius embraced Hermione's gift that Draco Malfoy finally seemed to realised the full extent of what his supposed "worthless Mudblood" schoolmate had done for his family. The words had kept his behaviour in check, but not his heart. That had been turned by the sight of his father's pristine, newly unMarked arm and his mother's joyful tears as she wept in her Lucius' arms.

Draco Malfoy, bane of Muggle-borns everywhere, trapped a panicked Hermione in his arms as he, too, wept.

After expanding on her reptilian family, Draco and Hermione became closer. As the summer passed, his mother couldn't drag Hermione to enough places, his father drilled her on society and custom, and Draco reaped the rewards of hard work by joining them for ice-cream and refreshments after. The two slow became friends, with Hermione retreating to Lucius when things got to be "too much."

After a while, he began to realise when she was being overloaded or when her buttons were being pushed a little too much, and he adjusted accordingly. He seemed to realise that Hermione's past experience with trusting anyone of her "peer group" was very shabby. All he could do was work with her, and ever so slowly she was starting to open up, and he was doing the same.

Years of harbouring negative feelings towards Muggle-borns had not been entirely easy to shed, but with Hermione around, he was becoming a quick study. He owed that to her for saving his family, but as time went on he realised it wasn't about obligation anymore. He wanted to know her as she was, and he had come to appreciate her.

Lucius' discussions with both Narcissa and Draco finally came to a head when they accepted an offer to become godparents for Hermione in case something should ever happen to Minerva.

Draco pulled Hermione aside after the celebratory dinner party that Lucius had specifically set up to put Hermione on display to warn off any potential threats without actually threatening anyone who might think of harming her.

"You realise the Weasel is going to have a heart attack, right?"

"Hrm?" Hermione asked, frozen with a tiny forkful of cake suspended in mid-air.

"You're basically my sister now, yeah?" Draco said smugly. "That makes you a Malfoy too. There isn't one bone in his body that won't be offended."

Hermione nibbled on her cake thoughtfully. "He tends to get offended by a lot of things."

Draco shook his head. "Breathing offends him, Hermione. I'm just saying, if he gives you any grief— well, any _more_ grief— over it, tell me, and I'll personally rearrange his face."

Hermione's eyes grew wide. "I could bite him on the nose."

"Bodies make trouble. Never leave bodies," Draco recommended.

"Words of wisdom to live by for sure," Hermione quipped.

Draco grinned. "Come on. Let's sneak out back and chase my father's peacocks."

Hermione's eyes lit up as she allowed a mischievous Draco to tug her out the garden door.

* * *

The reward money for capturing Peter Pettigrew finally made it to Gringott's just as the summer holidays hit full swing, and even split between them, Severus had upgraded his own potions equipment as well as a set his sights on tackling the weatherbeaten eyesore that was Spinner's End.

He converted some of his galleons into Muggle money and bought some "fill it up and we'll cart it away" rubbish bins as well as paying some of the neighborhood boys to haul it off for him. He also hired people to come rip off and retile the roof. He replaced the windows and shutters, siding, and much-abused floors, hiring all local talent to try and put some money back into the area.

He reconnected the floo to the network, renovated the fireplace so it was no longer a fire-hazard due to the buildup of countless years' worth of creosote, and changed the horrible rather funerary-looking curtains that had looked like someone stole them off a hearse back in the 50s. He gutted out the pipes. New copper fittings were put in to replace the ones that were probably a lead-filled ticking time-bomb, and blessed the house with a proper lavatory on each floor. Only after the electric wiring was replaced to meet current safety standards did he start moving his library back into the house. The rest of the furniture he donated to the neighborhood charity shops and bought all new locally-crafted furniture that his father had never seemed to believe worthwhile.

For the upper level, he commissioned a firm of daylighting specialists to re-do his windows and find other clever ways to pipe in sunlight to give it a very natural sort of feel. Then, after they left, he began to do some crafting of his own, turning the topmost floor into a very large pseudo-tropical environment complete with mossy rocks and smooth mangrove saplings. With a little help from magic, everything was running without the local authorities getting the idea that he was growing marijuana at all hours of the day, and the non-detectable expansion charms made the entire house far bigger on the inside than it appeared on the outside. It was the ideal environment for a basilisk, and Sithiss, Hermione, Minerva, Lucius, and Severus all managed to fit in to christen the place as being basilisk-approved.

Hermione jokingly pondered what would happen if some random burglar broke into the top floor and stumbled onto a nest of basilisks. Severus commented that if a random Muggle somehow managed to break through the impressive number and variety of wards he had on the place to find his way into the lair of five cranky basilisks, then they deserved exactly what they got.

"I could give them a little kiss," Hermione postulated.

"I wouldn't," Lucius commented. "You have no idea where they've been."

Hermione grinned and pounced Lucius, hanging onto his back like a young monkey. The normally stiff Malfoy patriarch tolerated it with an amused smile and carried her off down the stairs.

* * *

 _ **Adopted Orphaned Muggle-Born Witch Seduces Pure-blood Family**_

 _A Muggle-Born witch, formerly known as Hermione Jean Granger, was recently adopted by the stuffy old cat Animagus from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, providing further proof that that the manky old cat is getting far less choosy about whom she aligns herself with. Granger, whose birth parents were recently killed in a rather convenient Muggle car accident, was adopted not even a month after the incident, leading me to think, dear readers, that little Hermione has everything to hide._

 _To add even more consternation to her plight, somehow this charming little harlot has wiggled herself into the favour of the well-known and extremely wealthy Pureblood Malfoy family, who have agreed to serve as her godparents in the case the old cat kicks the bucket._

 _How is this possible?_

 _Snape._

 _Professor Severus Snape has obviously been charmed by the horrible little orphan, and he is providing her with a Dark potion to turn the members of the Malfoy family into her willing slaves._

 _Don't believe me?_

 _[Photograph of Hermione walking between McGonagall and Snape, hands linked]_

 _[photograph of Malfoys and Hermione having ice cream together at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour]_

 _Anyone who knows anything about the Malfoy family knows that they wouldn't be caught dead with a Muggleborn witch._

 _My multiple sources have told me that she stumbled around Hogwarts for a week pretending to be blind in a shameless attempt to garner her initial favour amongst the Hogwarts staff. Is this the kind of manipulative creature we want to have coexisting with our innocent children?_

 _But, don't just take my word for it. Take the word of the children forced to cohabitate with this manipulative little chit._

" _You should see her, hanging onto her professors, making it look like she's oh so sweet and innocent. All of the other students know just to get the top grades. Everyone knows she's a brown-noser," Gryffindor Seamus Finnegan told us._

" _She's horrible. She sat around for a week, stumbling around with something covering up her eyes. Professors act like she's all that and then some, ya know? She's nothing special. And she's an ugly little freak to boot."_

" _She's afraid to fly, ya know?" Gryffindor Ronald Weasley commented. "What freak would be afraid to fly. She just stands there with her broom and looks all scared, so Madam Hooch tells her she doesn't have to if she doesn't want to. What kind of favouritism is that? Psh."_

 _And mind, dear readers, is that much of this is coming from little Hermione's fellow Gryffindor housemates. Gryffindors are well-known for always supporting and defending their own, yet members of Hermione own house clearly despise her. What might we make of this rather telling bit of information? Nothing good, that's for sure._

* * *

 _ **Miracles Just In Time For Hogwarts**_

 _I'm not sure how many of you have been keeping up with the Quibbler recently, but many of you do know that my daughter, Luna, bless her, has not spoken a single word ever since her mother's passing. She writes, she composes prose, she draws, and she chases fairies around the garden, but when it comes to speech, I hadn't heard her lovely voice in three long years._

 _Until now._

 _Her first word in three years was: friend._

 _And the words have just kept coming, my friends. Why? I don't know, but I will tell you this._

 _Lord Lucius Malfoy was visiting my office with an offer to purchase our fine paper with an eye towards expansion. Who happened to accompany Lord Malfoy on his unexpected visit? None other than his goddaughter, Hermione McGonagall._

 _Not even twenty minutes after sitting Hermione down with my Luna, Luna was talking happily with her new friend, just as if she had never stopped. It was such a wonderful miracle. It was absolutely glorious!_

 _Luna will be attending Hogwarts next year, and I, my dear readers, have never been so excited. I know my Luna will be okay. With people like Hermione McGonagall there to be her friend, her long silence has finally been broken._

* * *

 _The Quibbler subscription rates, after a change in strategy following its recent purchase by Lord Lucius Malfoy, have skyrocketed to unprecedented levels. The Quibbler, which has always been about publishing the hidden truths out there, has found an improved niche in covering sadly-neglected local news, the kind of stories that people_ _ **really**_ _want to read._

 _From the discovery of Feeton's Fantastic Fungi in the backyard of an elderly couple who just thought it was "pretty" to the honour roll at Hogwarts, the brand-new Quibbler is all about making the ordinary extraordinary. The Quibbler's Amazing Recipes by Gemma Bunworthy already has an avid following, and the Weekly Home Potioneer, with brewing tips written by Hogwarts Professor Severus Snape has been a hit worldwide._

 _The new column called "Growing-Up Witchy" has attracted young witches everywhere with everyday tips on hair-care to dealing with being understood. The column Green Grass and Greener Thumbs, written by Hogwarts Professor Pomona Sprout, has many gardeners lining up with questions about everything from how to keep that finicky houseplant alive to how to kill those pesky weeds that nobody wants. Hogwarts Professor Silvanus Kettleburn is writing a correspondence column for questions involving the care of magical creatures. Master Griphook from Gringott's is writing a weekly column on money-saving tips and how to make your savings grow instead of shrink._

 _All of this has boiled down to thousands of subscriptions and the need for an entire fleet of owls to deliver it. Xenophilius has built a massive new owlry to house his ever-expanding ranks of news-owls, and for the first time ever, the Quibbler has a real, regular, and paid writing staff._

 _What does this mean for you, avid news-seekers?_

 _The news shall go on, but it seems like the Quibbler is rapidly becoming Wizarding Britain's most popular news publication, and not only that, but it is being requested regularly outside of Britain's borders as far away as the United States of America and Australia._

 _In other news, rumour has it that the Daily Prophet is in serious financial trouble, but so far, the Prophet leadership continues to vehemently deny this. An inside source has told us that in order to stay afloat they may have to let go the highest-paid reporters on staff, which would include notorious gossip columnist Rita Skeeter and Norman Askew, political analyst. All official interview requests have been denied._

* * *

"Surely there must be something we can do for my Ronald," Molly Weasley cried, wringing her hands as she sat in Dumbledore's office.

"Well, Molly, I fear young Ronald's final marks have proved to be quite trollish," Albus said, looking over the grades. "The only classes he is doing A-class work in is Care of Magical Creatures and Flying, and that is only acceptable. In everything else— Transfiguration rated him a Poor, Defence Against the Dark Arts he was marked Dreadful, and in Potions he was given Troll."

"Snape has _always_ had it against my boy!" Molly insisted.

Dumbledore arched a brow. "While I am sure that his grades could have been better, he has a proven record of failing to turn in his homework assignments on time, if at all. And while you may believe you are justified in blaming Severus for Ronald's low score, I assure you that five exploding or melting cauldrons, two of which sent one or more fellow students to the infirmary and one that sent Miss Brown back in time for precisely three months was _not_ a figment of anyone's imagination. I have copies of the Ministry's Department of Mysteries paperwork on what it took to restore her to the proper timeline as well as Poppy's records as to the specifics of the injuries resulting from Ronald's carelessness in Potions class. I should also inform you that multiple students from both Gryffindor and Slytherin have requested to _not_ be assigned a seat anywhere near Ronald during next term."

"Arthur! Say something!" Molly screeched.

Arthur, who was looking very intently at his shoes, startled. "I'm sorry, Molly. I ended up having to pay for the numerous supplies needed to send Ms Brown back to her proper time. I didn't tell you because I knew you'd get upset."

" _ **WHAT?!"**_ Molly screeched indignantly.

Dumbledore selected a lemon drop from his bowl and enthusiastically sucked on it, his eyes flicking back and forth between the highly-irate Molly Weasley and the wish-I-were-anywhere-but-here-Arthur Weasley. Fawkes warbled _London Bridge is Falling Down_ as he swung back and forth on his perch swing.

"Ahem," Dumbledore attempted.

Molly continued to read Arthur the riot-act.

Dumbledore stroked his beard and pondered throwing himself out his office window and doing broom stunts just to see if anyone would notice. " _ **Mrs Weasley!"**_ he finally interjected. "I was in a conference with Ronald and your husband after the first few incidents occurred. I can tell you, for certain, that Arthur did his absolute best to keep your son on track, but I can also tell you that his behaviour and classroom performance were nowhere near as improved as I would have liked. I fear that, unless Ronald can pass an aptitude test showing a respectable competence at first year skills, that he will have to be held back and retake his first year. And believe me when I tell you that, after hearing reports of his responsibility in the torment and bullying of one of his fellow students—"

"That little Muggleborn _harlot_ that the Prophet spoke about?" Molly screeched again.

Dumbledore's jaw tightened as he reined back his anger. "Mrs Weasley. "That 'harlot' you speak of is only twelve-years-old. She has most recently suffered the loss of both parents, gone through the stress of being adopted, and then recovering from a temporary bout of blindness due to an unfortunate incident that happened here at the school. I will assure you that this young witch is nothing like the ugly picture painted in Miss Skeeter's scandalous imaginings. While I cannot go into further detail beyond that which is already public knowledge, I can tell you about some of the incidents your son has been found guilty of. The offenses include repeatedly breaking Miss McGonagall's walking cane, which was given to her by Lord Lucius Malfoy, multiple tripping incidents, as well as a constant stream of verbal abuse. All of which have been confirmed by multiple portrait witnesses, professors, and fellow students."

"W— what?" Molly sat stiffly, wringing her hands in dismay.

"I could tell her, headmaster," one of the nearby portraits said venomously. An older man with a storm-grey beard, deep set eyes, and a rather large hat scowled down from a portrait. "I was there."

"I know well enough your bias against Muggle-borns, Phineas Nigellus Black!" Molly hissed.

"Well, then, seeing as your son is not Muggle-born, unless you wish to say otherwise, I don't see how it will matter," Phineas glowered.

"Go ahead, Phineas," Dumbledore said, gesturing for the portrait to continue. "But kindly get to the point."

"The girl— Hermione— she was walking down the hall in the west wing. She had Lord Malfoy's cane, transformed so that she could use it to find her way around the castle. That's when that little cur, Ronald Weasley, came up behind her with a pack of his fellow hellions. He snatched the cane right out of her hands, broke it into pieces, and left her crying in the hall, frantically trying to find the pieces to put them back together again. It was Snape who found her out there alone, crying in despair," Phineas reported, curling his lip in disgust at the memory of the incident in question. "That walking cane has been in the Malfoy family for hundreds of years, Weasley. He would not give to just _anyone_ , even as a loan."

"My boy would _never_ do such things," Molly insisted hotly. "We taught Ronald far better than that, so you must be lying!"

Phineas Nigellus snarled at her wordlessly and stormed back out of his portrait.

"Molly," Dumbledore said with a sigh. "No portrait in this office or anywhere else in the castle can lie to me. If Phineas claims the event is true, then he _is_ being truthful."

"He knows better!" Molly pleaded.

"Perhaps he does," Albus conceded. "But for some reason, Ronald chose to not act in the way that you taught him. In another incident, he and Mr Potter were caught in the forbidden wing of Hogwarts just before the summer holidays. They were attacked by the guard dog stationed there. It was only because of Mr Filch's attentiveness that the boys were rescued in time to prevent further injury or worse."

"I think," Albus continued, "that perhaps this separation from his supposed peers will serve him well. Perhaps, he will do better when not surrounded by the influences that have seem to have lead him astray. If, as you say, it is somehow Miss McGonagall's fault, then he will not be in any further classes with her."

"We've _never_ had one of our children held back!" Molly cried.

Dumbledore sighed, chewing on another lemon drop. "You are welcome to have Ronald tutored over the summer and then make arrangements for him to take the first year aptitude test. If he passes them all with an acceptable or better, then I will see to his being placed in second year classes. However, if he cannot, then Ronald must remain in first."

Molly wailed, placing her head in her hands.

Arthur put his arm around his distraught wife. "Thank you, Headmaster. I am glad you will be giving him another chance despite the tales of what has been going on here."

Albus narrowed his eyes and nodded. "Rest assured, Mr and Mrs Weasley, if Ronald is caught harming another student at Hogwarts or bullying anyone, my response will not be nearly as magnanimous."

Arthur nodded wearily. "Thank you, headmaster."

* * *

Sirius Black steepled his hands together and stared across the table. "I will agree to pay for you to be tutored so that you may pass your first year aptitude test, but on one condition."

Harry and Ron looked down at the highly-polished kitchen table in shame.

"Filth! Stain upon my family house! Get out!" Walburga's portrait screamed from the stairwell.

"We have company this evening, at my request. You _will_ apologise to Hermione McGonagall for your despicable behaviour." Sirius glared across the table at both boys.

"Yes," Harry said, nodding vigorously.

Ron looked stubbornly away. Finally he muttered,"Fine."

* * *

"Is this really your family?" Hermione asked curiously, her small fingers tracing the frames of the various portraits.

"Since long before I remember, yes," Sirius admitted. "Some of them were noble people. Some of them only _said_ they were noble people."

Sirius paused. "I heard about your parents, Hermione," Sirius said. "I am truly sorry for your loss."

Hermione shook her head. "Thank you. I'm finally starting to accept it."

Sirius looked up the stairs. "My feeling for my parents was never—"

"Filth! Scum of the Earth! Mudblood— _**GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!**_ " the portrait screamed.

Hermione took a step backward.

" _That_ particular abomination is my mother," Sirius sighed. "She affixed her portrait to the wall with a permanent sticking charm, and her portrait is every bit as vile and heinous as her living self. Merlin, I wish I could just shut her the f— quiet her down. Permanently."

Hermione bit her lip. "Do you really mean that?"

"Hermione, if you found a way that I and my friends haven't tried in vain to do in the past, I will happily pay for your entire Hogwarts education, books and all until you graduate. I will even throw in a mastery apprenticeship as well." Sirius laughed dryly. "I am so _not_ kidding. She keeps Harry awake half the night. Merlin, she even makes the other portraits flee for the painting of cows in the cellar."

Hermione seemed to ponder something very hard. "You are certain this is what you want?"

Sirius looked down at her with total sincerity in his grey eyes. "Hermione, I swear to you all that I said and more. If you have a way that can silence that foul-mouthed harridan from hell, I will give you all that I said, and I will get you the best house-elf on this side of the pond to serve your every desire until the end of your days."

Hermione tilted her head, unsure what the last part meant for her, as she didn't have a house of her own, but perhaps the house part was figurative? "I need you to close your eyes for a couple moments."

Sirius frowned. "That is a rather odd request."

Hermione tilted her head. "I am a rather odd person, Mr Black"

Sirius laughed. "As you wish, my Lady. I will stare at this cactus over here until you tell me it's okay to look back again."

"That is a rather sad-looking cactus, Mr Black."

Sirius snorted. "Yes, so don't take too long. I just might fall asleep."

Hermione smiled. Sirius stared at said cactus fixedly. She trekked up the stairs as Walburga Black spewed her vile hatred and venom. A house-elf stared at her as she came up the stairs, and he gave her a strange expression somewhere between hatred and disbelief. Hermione's eyes flicked over to him. She closed her eyes, looking at him with her magic. Her eyes opened as she met his gaze, and the house-elf averted his eyes, hastily stepping back into the darkness.

"Kreacher! You useless sod! Attack this filthy Mudblood pestilence before she contaminates the sanctity of my portrait!"

There was the sound of something hitting something else hard in the darkness. "Can't. Can't!"

"Filthy Mudblood! You will _**never**_ silence me!"

"I must at least ask, to give you a chance. Silence your words of hatred. Still the hand of silent fate," Hermione said, her voice going sing-song.

"Foul stain upon my father's house! _**Freak!**_ _**FREAK**_!"

Hermione winced and cricked her neck. She reached her fingers up to her eyes, pressing them to her lenses, pulling them to the side and removing them. She hissed lowly, "You have long been dead, Walburga Black. This is just a mere echo— a painted farce of life. I see nothing alive within this portrait. There is no magic that sings the song of life. Even your frame is barren, as though life itself denies you. My Lord Father sends his most genuine regards." Hermione's eyes opened, exposing her sulfurous orange-red orbs and slitted pupils.

" _ **FREA**_ —!" Walburga's scream was cut off in mid-utterance. Her portrait slowed as if cast into molasses. Finally, her image was completely still.

Hermione quickly slid her lenses back over her eyes blinking them back into place with furious repeated blinks.

There was a sharp crack, and Walburga's frozen portrait abruptly clattered to the floor.

Hermione stared at it as the sounds of Kreacher beating himself came to a halt, as if the second death of his mistress finally released him from the compulsion of failure.

"You can look now, Mr Black," Hermione said with a tired sigh.

Sirius rushed up the stairs and stared at the silent portrait of Walburga— frozen in mid-curse. He tilted his head back and laughed, and laughed, and laughed.

"Hermione McGonagall," Sirius said, pulling out his wand. "I swear to you this day, I will pay for every bit of your education until you obtain your mastery, and I will get you the best house-elf on this side of the pond to serve you and yours. This I swear, on my name, Sirius Black, and my on my magic." His wand flashed a brilliant gold and then faded.

Hermione flushed. "A simple handshake would have done it."

Sirius barked laughter. "May I hug you, my Lady?"

Hermione looked a little unsure but nodded.

Sirius drew her to him and smiled, kicking the blissfully silent portrait of his mother down the stairs with one booted foot.

* * *

The back gardens of Grimmauld Place turned out to be much larger than Hermione had expected. The walls were overgrown with ivy and vines, but things were very much alive.

Sirius was grilling steaks on a stone and iron hearth, and the smell was absolutely heavenly. Molly and Arthur arrived with Fred and George, and all of them were carrying baskets of food.

"We gotcher fresh-baked bread right here," Fred said, plunking down a basket.

"And enough garden pea pasta salad and bacon and egg pie to feed a family of a hundred for an entire month," George snorted, setting down his basket.

Arthur shook his head. "I brought the blueberry and mint iced tea, the asparagus and prosciutto bundles, and some goat cheese, and one of my favourites: falafel scotch eggs."

Molly plunked down her own basket." And I have here plenty of fresh English strawberries, Victoria sponge cake, and double-chocolate scones."

 _What? Nothing raw? Psh_ , Sithiss complained. _Figures the scruffy one over there is taking the few raw things and cooking them._

Hermione tried to keep a straight face. "That sounds wonderful."

 _Can I eat the redhead over there?_ Sithiss asked.

Hermione blinked. "They are _all_ red-headed."

Sithiss hissed innocently.

"What did you say, Hermione?"

"Ah! I'm just saying I'm feeling like the only one with non-red hair," she lied.

Harry and Sirius scratched their respective heads of coal-black hair. "Hey!"

"Is this a _Muggle_ grill, Sirius?" Arthur asked excitedly.

Sirius chuckled. "It's a stone grill. Muggles make them, but I added a few things. The fire never gets too hot or too cool, it always stays at the ideal cooking temperature."

Arthur looked all too interested. Molly just rolled her eyes.

"Hey, McGonagall," Fred and George called out, gesturing for her to join them.

Hermione frowned, unsure what to do.

"We have Cornish pasties!" Fred said, waving one enticingly. "One of the few things George can make without setting the oven on fire."

George nudged Fred with his elbow.

Hermione slowly came over and sat down, seeming as skittish as a feral kitten.

"Hey," George said, passing her a pasty. "We, uh, want to apologise for our royal git of a little brother."

Hermione took the pasty and sniffed it carefully.

"I swear it's not— " Fred sighed. "I know they say you can't trust anything we say, but I promise it's not a trick."

Hermione slowly nibbled on the pasty, her eyes lighting up as the taste appealed to her.

George smiled. "In fact, I think our little bro purposely timed every little event to happen when we weren't around because he knew what we'd do to him if we ever caught him at it."

Fred nodded grimly, chewing on his pasty. "We joke. We prank. I'll admit that, but we don't go tripping people down stairs and— you just don't _do_ things like that."

"Next time, if he says something mean?" George recommended, "Just kick him right between the legs. Might be hard to hit because he doesn't have any real stones to speak of—"

Hermione snickered.

Fred and George beamed.

George grinned. "Git brother has always been trying to prove he's better than everyone. Mum coddles him like he's breakable. Then Ginny was born, and well, she coddled her instead. Thing is, Ginny is tough and doesn't let anyone get the one up on her, but she's not out to prove anything. Git bro? Not so much. Mum read him the riot act about his grades. If he can't test out, he's repeating a year. He'll be taking classes with Ginny."

Fred finished off his pasty and snorted. "Serves him right, really. He's lucky he wasn't expelled. Seems like Dumbledore was very close to showing him the door. He, Harry, and Seamus all have to take the aptitude test before going back."

"Yeah, and about our mum," George said. "She says she's sorry in food. She's really bad about it any other way. I'm not saying it isn't worth saying to your face, but, I think she's feeling really confused about what to think, ya know?"

Hermione nodded slowly.

"Not just to you, either," Fred told her. "She sent a crazy mad howler to Harry accusing him of being a bad influence on Ron and making it impossible for him to study.

Hermione stared at Fred, eyebrows arching much like a certain Potion's master's.

"Yeah, that's pretty much how we reacted to that too," George replied, waving his hand. "So yeah, mum was up until Merlin-o'clock in the morning baking and cooking all this food as a sort of sorry-for-being-a-shitty-parson kind of deal."

Fred shook his head. "It's like apology food. It's always better after a fight. Kind of like make-up sex."

George thwacked Fred soundly against the back of his head. "Shut up, arse-face. She's twelve, idiot."

Hermione just looked at them blankly.

Fred and George gave her an apologetic look. "We ok, Mini-gonagall?"

Hermione flushed and nodded.

Fred and George smiled at her. "Ok, time to go stick our noses in everyone's business." They shuffled off together.

Hermione looked around to see if anyone was watching and grabbed a few more pasties and found her way to the back of the garden where it was shaded and away from everyone else. She looked around more closely, but decided no one was nearby.

Sithiss materialised, curling her coils around her tenderly. Hermione leaned back against her and fed her pieces of the meat pasties she had just absconded with. By the time the pasties were gone, Hermione was dozing off, her eyes growing heavy as the warmth from Sithiss' coils lulled her into a safe doze.

Hermione wrapped her arms around Sithiss' body and closed her eyes

"Hey, Hermione."

Hermione suddenly jolted awake, her eyes widened quickly as she instinctively pressed her back to the garden wall. Sithiss vanished back into her skin, and Hermione saw Harry approaching.

She tried to tell herself that he was trying to be a better person and that everyone needed that chance, but he was not a safe place to be for her. Instead, she had to gather her the remnants of her courage and try not to make like a thunderbird and fly away or as a basilisk and escape over the garden wall and flee into the undergrowth.

Harry came around the thick shrubs and found her. "Hey. The twins suggested a scavenger hunt or hide and seek. Sirius thinks there could be dangerous stuff in the house he hasn't found yet, so he recommended the yard and garden. Want to join us?"

Hermione frowned slightly, but then squared her shoulders. "Okay."

Harry smiled at her.

* * *

As Harry and Hermione came back to the picnic area, Molly looked at the two children with a combination of evaluation and shame.

Hermione looked this way and that, looking as though she were going to bolt at any given moment. She was tense like a tightly coiled spring, and it was obvious that the girl felt like she was way out of her safety zone. According to Sirius, the only reason she was here without Minerva or Snape was an important staff meeting called by Dumbledore— a meeting that involved planning curriculum for a few students that were being held back for the next term. Both of them were to show up as soon as the meeting let out, and Molly could tell that none of the people around were offering any sort of comfort to the girl.

She was skittish as a young foal, and just as nervous without her dam. Molly recognised it from the horses her family had once raised and bred. She was not the picture of a seductress that Rita Skeeter had painted her as. Molly flinched. Arthur and his colleagues at the Ministry had often told her what they thought of Rita and her trend of gossip-mongering, but Molly had always thought she could make her own decisions whether to believe or not. Only it seemed that when she did, she could only fall in the trap and end up believing it.

There was no way her son would pick on such a fragile-looking and vulnerable girl. He had always taken such good care of Ginny. He would know better. He wouldn't hurt her, ever. They had taught him better.

She watched the children spread out as Harry was first to be the seeker. She boggled at how careful the boy was. When he thought he found the girl, he would announce he was there and where he thought she was instead of trying to pounce on her like a typical hide-and-seek player would. He found Hermione hiding in the overgrown hedges, and, sure enough, she walked out when he "found her" without having to touch her. She smiled hesitantly at him, perhaps appreciative of the boy's thoughtfulness on her behalf. The game reset, and Hermione stood counting as the boys scampered off hide.

Molly turned herself back to setting the table and keeping the ever-troublesome twins from spiking the food, but even as she did so, she noticed that there was one plate of food they were carefully avoiding, almost as if they were holding back their typical prankish ways for one particular person. Sighing, she went about pouring new drinks and putting a ward over them to keep the twins from adding anything to them.

Assuredly the twins were the hardest of her children to keep in line.

* * *

Hermione slowly made her way around the yard, trying not to use the senses that would give her an unfair advantage over the others. Even after what they had done to her, she still held on to a sense of fairplay. A part of her was excited. She had always enjoyed hide-and-seek with her neighbours growing up. She usually won the war of attrition, waiting for someone to make a sound and give up their location in some way.

Harry was somewhere in the other direction. She could smell his hair tonic. She wasn't sure if that was cheating, but it was really, really strong, so wouldn't that be obvious? So, instead of going after him, she went after the strange scent of chicken wings and something tangy that reminded her of barbeque sauce that seemed to hint at Ronald. If it took too long for her to find him, she'd go back to finding Harry and his hair tonic.

Sithiss seemed to think she was cheating herself by not using the senses Death Himself had given her, but Hermione adamantly believed that using her inner vision and ability to track heat and energy signatures was not in the rule book for hide-and-seek. Sithiss pouted, telling her that one should always use every skill and opportunity to outwit their prey.

 _They are not prey!_ Hermione protested.

 _You are hunting them,_ Sithiss replied. _That makes them prey._

Hermione slumped. _They're—_

 _Not your friends,_ Sithiss pointed out.

Hermione sighed. _I have to at least try and make friends. Harry at least seems like he's trying. Ronald is ignoring me, which is still better than before._

 _Groom the blond one into someone you can trust,_ Sithiss suggested. _He is cunning and cares for your safety._

 _Draco isn't here right now,_ Hermione reasoned.

 _Maybe he should be,_ Sithiss reasoned.

 _He'd probably punch Ronald in the face and—_

 _Yes?_

 _Shove his wand straight up his arse,_ Hermione replied, wincing.

 _That would be an improvement,_ Sithiss chuckled in that hissing laugh of hers.

Hermione snorted, but she took comfort in the basilisk's warmth and amusement. She noted the slightly ajar cellar door and frowned. Would he be hiding in the cellar? They were supposed to stay in the garden, Harry had told her.

She cast her gaze around the area, but there were really no good places to hide unless you happened to be a chameleon—or a topiary giraffe. Was that a topiary bear?

She turned back to the cellar, unsure. She wasn't anywhere anyone could see her go down. She lifted the door up and let the sunlight cascade in. Hopefully the wide open door would clue anyone in if they were going to look. Somehow, she doubted that if she called out "Hey, anyone hiding down here?" that it would go over well.

A tingle in the back of her mind warned her to leave something up top in case someone was looking. She took a rock and scraped a tiny snake on the rock foundation.

" _I'll turn her into a right Slytherin yet, Minerva," she heard Severus' voice in her head and smiled._

" _Severus Snape, you will not turn my cub into a snake!" Minerva had yelled at him._

" _Technically—"_

" _You stop right there, Severus!"_

 _Severus had turned away, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth._

Taking in a deep breath, she walked down the stairs.

* * *

Ron returned to the table as everyone was eating, a smug little smile on his face.

"Hey, little git brother," Fred greeted. "Where's Mini-gonagall?"

"How should I know?" Ron replied easily. "I got tired of waiting and smelled food."

George scoffed.

Harry climbed back down from a nearby tree. "Where's Hermione?"

"Probably still searching for us," Ron replied with a careless shrug. "If she keeps looking, she'll end up back here and find us."

Harry frowned. He walked over to the side garden and frowned. All doors were shut. No open windows either. Where _was_ she? Would she have gone inside to use the loo? No, he would have seen her.

"Hermione! Let's get dinner, yeah?" he yelled.

Nothing.

Harry frowned and went inside. "Kreacher."

There was a soft _pop_. The sullen-looking house-elf glared at him. "Yes, Master?"

"Have you seen Hermione?"

"Haven't seen dirty Mudblood." Kreacher answered.

Harry narrowed his eyes. "Can you take me to her?"

Kreacher clenched his teeth. "Cannot take you there."

"Can't or won't, Kreacher?"

"Cannot," Kreacher replied. "Kreacher cannot go to place."

Harry frowned and stormed back outside, barely remembering to say a "Thank you, Kreacher" as he left.

Kreacher twitched and disappeared with a _pop_.

* * *

"Sirius?" Harry came up to his godfather, who had a large plate of grilled sausages in his hand. He placed it down on the table.

"What is it, Harry?" Sirius asked.

"Kreacher said something really odd when I asked him where Hermione was," Harry said. "Is there anywhere on your property he can't go?"

Sirius frowned. "I don't understand. Tell me _exactly_ what you asked him and his answer? House-elves are often cryptic on purpose just to annoy you."

Harry scratched his head. "I asked him 'Can you take me to her'?" Harry said. "Then he replied, 'Cannot. Kreacher cannot go to place'."

Sirius frowned, and then suddenly his face drained of all color, turning white as a sheet. "No, it couldn't—"

Suddenly, Sirius was Padfoot, and Padfoot tore off across the garden, making a bee-line to the side garden path.

Harry looked at the others eating at the table with a fearful expression on his face. He ran after the black dog, almost too scared to want to know why his godfather had left so panicked but even more scared _not_ to know.

 _Crack_.

 _Crack_.

Professors McGonagall and Snape appeared right after each other in the middle of the lawn, their faces pale and— frightened.

"Hermione?" McGonagall called out to her daughter, worry clear in the older witch's voice.

Now the adults were swarming around like a hive of angry bees.

"This way!" Harry yelled. "Padfoot went this way!"

Both professors rushed in his direction as Harry ran to the area where he had last seen Padfoot. Sirius was touching something on the side of the wall, and he flung open the cellar door, casting a _Lumos_ as he descended the cellar stairs in a mad rush.

McGonagall and Snape were hot on his heels.

"No, no, no, no!" Sirius cried as he saw the active glyphs moving against the door.

"What _is_ this place, Sirius?" Minerva exclaimed, her voice trembling.

"My parents' dungeon—" Sirius said despairingly. "This is where they threw Regulus and I when we didn't behave exactly as they required of us."

"What?" Severus asked, disbelief written clearly on his face.

"It's a magic supression well," Sirius explained. "It makes it so no magic works within, but it also steals every single sense you have. You cannot tell if you are up or down. You cannot tell if you are in pain. There is only endless nothingness. You scream but no one can hear you. You can't even hear your own screams."

"Is she trapped in this thing?" Severus hissed.

"I don't know!" Sirius said, pulling his wand out. "There is only one way to open it once it has someone. At first, you have a few minutes, but then the spells kick in and steal everything away until you are left with nothing. It starts with your sight, and it moves on until every sense is gone."

Minerva and Severus exchanged horrified glances, knowing exactly what being trapped in sensory deprivation would do to an already fragile Hermione.

Sirius uttered a cutting spell, and a large slash formed on Sirius' hand.

"Black, what the hell are you doing?" Severus demanded.

"Opening the well," Sirius said, wincing as he let his blood run down over the wards. "Only Black blood will open it, and only from up here. Mother made sure that her children couldn't just bleed inside and escape."

Sirius fell to his knees, the blood loss affecting him, but as the rivulets of blood connected around the circle, a flash of magic blew outwards and the room was filled with radiant light.

Sirius looked over the edge of the revealed lip. "Hermione!"

Severus and Minerva looked in.

"Merlin," Minerva cried. "Get her out of there!"

Sirius was not answering. He had collapsed with exhaustion and blood loss on the edge of the well, his blood having powered the disarming of the well.

Severus cursed fluently. He pointed his wand at Hermione's crumpled body and levitated her up to them. The light exposed cruelly jagged sides, and fresh blood where she had been frantically trying to escape— only without senses, she had no idea that she was hurting herself even worse. Her ankles were purple and swollen badly, and her head was bleeding where it had hit something either on the way down or during her struggle to extricate herself from where she had been trapped.

The moment she was out of the well, Minerva and Severus lurched as their sense of Hermione came rushing back, and it was accompanied by a low, angry, murderous hiss.

 _ **Kill. KILL! KILLLLL!**_

Molten rage poured over them as the black form of Sithiss suddenly materialised.

 _ **I WILL TEAR HIM APART!**_

 _No!_ Minerva and Severus cried together, using every bit of energy they had to reason with the murderous basilisk

Sithiss turned back to them violently, her fangs bared, venom dripping from her many, many fangs.

 _Hermione needs you, Sithiss!_ They pleaded. _She needs your strength now. Please. Help her. We need to get her moved so she can be healed._

The giant serpent's eyes glowed like suns. She looked out the door leading to the outside and then back to them. Then, she looked at Hermione and something seemed to click in her mind. The giant basilisk dematerialised, returning to Hermione's skin as she offered the injured girl her energy.

Severus cradled Hermione in his arms as he exchanged grim looks with Minerva, and she turned to put her hand on Sirius.

 _Crack._

 _Crack._

They Disapparated together, taking Hermione and the injured Sirius back to Poppy at the Hogwarts infirmary.

* * *

Minerva and Severus watched anxiously as Poppy and a healer friend she trusted implicitly worked on Hermione and Sirius. Sirius had been an easier fix— blood replenishing potions were putting him right again.

Hermione, however was a far more complex case.

Healer Cadmus Chadwick waved his wand over Hermione, incanting multiple spells in succession. As he worked to quickly to stabilize his young patient's flagging vitals, Poppy was working on her broken bones, obvious lacerations, and swelling, which was making it hard to diagnose everything else.

Cadmus was concentrating fully on Hermione's head, which he suspected had at the very least a nasty concussion and at the worst, brain swelling and bleeding. In the meantime, Poppy had moved on to work on Hermione's lungs, which had started to alarm her when Hermione's breathing was starting to become raspy and rapid.

They worked in tandem, seamlessly connecting their spells, and both healers had on the special protective goggles "just in case." Poppy hadn't said why, but Cadmus apparently trusted her completely. He simply put them on and continued with what he was doing, barely stopping in his work.

It was well over an hour later before Cadmus finally stopped his chanting. He wavered slightly, barely making it to the nearby chair, and Poppy, too, collapsed in the other chair near the infirmary bed where Hermione lay unconscious. Severus gave them both potions to restore their energy after the extensive work, and both healers nodded silently before quaffing it down.

"Physically, she is fine, now," Cadmus said wearily. "Psychologically, that will depend on what she remembers of the trauma that brought her here. That may require a great deal of patience and understanding."

Severus and Minerva looked to Hermione and then back to Cadmus. "What will she need?"

"Quiet and a place she feels safe, most likely," Cadmus said. "I scanned enough to know that this will be crucial for her recovery. She will no doubt need those she feels safe with around at all times for a time. How long I cannot say. If you have any idea what may have caused or triggered this, you need to keep her away from it until she is prepared to deal with it cognitively. I will return to check on her daily, but only when someone she knows is with her. She will not know me, and I do not wish to traumatise her further."

"Thank you Healer Chadwick," Minerva said with a nod, appreciative of the old healer's kind thoughtfulness.

"Be sure to move her to a familiar place before she wakes. It would not be good for her to do so in a strange place such as an infirmary," Cadmus instructed.

As Severus picked Hermione up, cradling her close to him, Cadmus placed a hand on his shoulder. "She is young and inexperienced. As your bond grows, so, too, will the latent power. It is a special thing you have. It will see you through this and into the future. Be open with her, and she will flourish. One day, she may be a healer the likes of which we have never seen. The spark is there within. When her blood catches up, none of this shall ever happen again."

Severus blinked back emotion and nodded curtly, unsure how to express himself.

Cadmus smiled. He drew his fingers over his eyes and pulled them across them. Golden eyes stared back with pupils narrowed into slits. "I am the quetzalcoatl as you are the basilisk. Our power only grows as we age. Whenever you are in need, I will come, for this is the covenant between the serpent and the gods. My people have been misunderstood for as long as yours. Many think we are bloodthirsty. They sacrifice people to us for gifts of fertility. We never asked for that. Basilisks never asked for their reputation, either." Cadmus looked up as Minerva approached. He let her see his eyes before he covered them once more. Her eyes grew wide, but her tension seemed to leak away, relief and understanding placating her heart.

"One day, this event will seem small and trivial," Cadmus said with a smile. "You will look on it and laugh because of how easily she was hurt when she will not remain so very vulnerable for long. For those of us who measure our lives in eternity and wear the mark of His devotion, our childhood seems but a wistful time. Innocent, sometimes naive, and fragile. That, in itself, is a gift, brother and sister of the scale and fang. One must remember what it is to be fragile and easily broken when lives hang in the balance of your fangs and gaze."

Cadmus looked over to Poppy wistfully. "You are lucky she found you so soon. Some of us are cowards, afraid of revealing our true self to those we cherish— afraid they will not accept what we truly are. The gift of childhood, is that Hermione did not have such baggage. She claimed what she loved, and that bond between you will help you all through difficult times as this."

Severus looked out the open window and then back. He nodded to Cadmus, bowing his head respectfully.

Cadmus sighed, the sound resembling a hiss. "When I was young, I was angry. I indulged in the things that gave my kind the bad name we had, not realising that I was so much more. She will be spared that."

Severus eyed Cadmus curiously. "And when— brother— were you ever young?"

Cadmus smiled slyly. "I saw the rise of El Castillo, brother, for my true name is Kukulcan."

Severus' eyes went very wide.

* * *

Sirius woke with Harry firmly attached to his torso. He slowly put his hand to Harry's mop-like hair and ruffled it. "Hey."

Harry startled and squeezed him harder.

"I'm not so easy to kill, Minibuck," Sirius grunted, "but you are cutting off my oxygen."

Harry let him go, but he looked unsure as to whether Sirius would vapourise.

"We were so worried. There was so much blood on the floor," Harry fretted.

"Tribute to the glorious legacy of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black," Sirius sighed. "I have tried to destroy that evil place many, many times, but the spells that created it are a type of magic that is far beyond me. I doubt even my parents truly knew what they were dealing with."

"You're awake, Scruffy," a sour-faced Auror greeted. "Care to tell me what the hell happened down there?"

"Ugh, Alastor," Sirius groaned. "Tell me you brought coffee. Or whisky. Preferably both at the same time."

The scar-faced Auror plunked himself down by the bed, handing a grateful Sirius a very large mug of coffee.

"Never thought I'd be so happy to see you, boss," Sirius said after inhaling the mug of caffeinated ambrosia.

"Not even a few months out of Azkaban, and you're already trying to bleed out on some random floor," Moody scolded.

"To be fair, boss," Sirius groaned. "I did it for a good reason."

"Oh, I'm sure dying has a very good reason," Moody barked.

"Told 'em to go play hide-and-seek. Didn't want them in that house," Sirius said. He reached for his wand and jabbed it into his temple, pulling out the strand of memories. Alastor held out a vial, and Sirius guided the silver strands in. "Somehow that cellar was opened. I don't know how. Maybe it's always been open since mother died. Maybe— Regulus and I always believed that you had to think horrible, unspeakable things to get that door to unlock. We tried a few times to burn the door down and expose that evil place to the world, but we could never do it. Not when we were young, anyway. As we grew older, we learned to hate and the door would unlatch. It's almost a living thing, now, Alastor. I can't predict it. It seems to have its own mind."

Moody frowned. "How the hell did you get her out?"

"I didn't," Sirius confessed. "I passed out trying to feed the blood wards enough to make it shut down long enough— I presume McGonagall and Sni— Snape got her out."

"Aye, they did, lad," Moody said. "Got the story from them. The girl is going to be okay. I just needed your part. Why so much blood?"

Sirius shook his head. "Maybe because the place _knows_ me. As I said, it's alive— and both I and Regulus spent many days in there to 'assist in adjusting our priorities'. For all I know, the place had a grudge."

"Well, I think we can safely request a curse-breaker team and some specialists to come dismantle that place for you. Can't say that I would know a thing about it. It stood my hair on end just walking into the place," Moody said. That the experienced old Auror shuddered at the mere memory of the place spoke volumes.

"That would— be a huge relief, boss," Sirius sighed. "It's the reason I and my brother— Regulus eventually turned himself into the perfect son just to avoid that place. Me— let's just say I know what the girl went through, and it horrifies me." Sirius shuddered.

"Still," Moody said. "How'd the girl end up down there? From what Minerva tells me, the girl is flighty and cautious to the extreme. What could possibly bring her there?"

Sirius shook his head. "I really don't know."

Harry squeezed Sirius' hand reflexively.

"What is it, Harry?" Sirius asked.

"When I was in the tree, hiding, I saw Hermione go off to that side of the garden, but before she did, Ron went first," Harry recalled. "And then Ron came back for supper. He told me he hadn't seen her. I thought that was odd, but I figured maybe she went to the loo, ya? I asked Kreacher if he'd seen her, and he said no, so I asked if he could take me to her, and he said he couldn't."

Sirius' eyes widened. "My mother changed the wards on the place so that Kreacher couldn't get down there. Kreacher had come to rescue Regulus a few times, until she found out about it."

Moody's eyes narrowed. "I'll have to question the boy with his parents. Somehow I don't think simply asking is going to get the answers I need."

"There is always Veritaserum, boss," Sirius grunted.

"That, Scruffy, will require parental consent," Moody replied.

Sirius winced as he sat up. "Somehow, I think Molly will agree. She genuinely thinks her son to be incapable of such things."

Moody's face darkened. "We are _all_ capable of such things, given the right motivation. That is what most people prefer to forget. It's what we do with such impulses that defines us— and that can lead to freedom or Azkaban."

* * *

Hermione awoke cuddled up next to Severus' robes and laying in the giant coils of a very clingy and protective basilisk. Fawkes was curled up in her lap, and she realised that she had a bit of a death-grip on the poor bird. She released him, soothing his feathers with her hands.

"Sorry."

Severus stirred, his dark eyes scanning hers. Sithiss nudged her with her giant head, her tongue tenderly tickling her face.

"I'm okay," Hermione soothed. "Lord Father told me the story of the Three Brothers. He said it was better if I listened to the story than— suffer."

Sithiss hissed, nudging Hermione with her nose, plunking her against Severus.

"Your mother is in the next room, talking with Auror Moody," Severus told her soothingly, a slight trickle of worry in his voice. "Do you remember what happened?"

Hermione clutches his robes and snuggled into them, stroking the fabric of his doublet in a comforting motion. "He hurt his leg, I think. Ron. In the dark. He was calling for help, so I went. Then something clicked under me. The floor gave way, and I fell. I was hurt, and I was yelling for help. There was a small voice down there. It begged me to help him, so I started to dig with my hands, but the feeling was going away. I found—" Hermione blinked. "I think—"

Hermione felt her chest and put her hand down her shirt to fetch something she stashed there. She pulled out a dirt and gravel-covered metal locket, tarnished by age and filth. "Then it all went dark. I couldn't see. I couldn't feel. All my senses seemed to be fading away. I panicked. I—" She clung to Severus tightly.

Severus wrapped his arm around her, and Hermione clung to him, sobbing. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry. I'm such a failure. I was so scared! I couldn't change. I couldn't—"

Severus grasped her hands and pressed his forehead to hers. "Hermione, it wasn't your fault. The place you were in dampens magic. It was specifically crafted to weaken you and steal your power away."

Hermione's eyes were wet with tears, and she stared up at him in disbelief. "I tried to call for you. It didn't work. It always worked before. Sithiss. I couldn't hear her."

Severus soothed her hair. "Hermione, that was a truly evil place. An abomination. It was made to— torture those that the Black family viewed as imperfect. It was not you. Your magic did not fail you."

Hermione clutched at the dirt-encrusted locket in her hand. Then she placed it into Severus' hands. "Can you help him?"

Severus frowned. "Him?"

He fingered the locket. He took his wand and scanned it for Dark Magic or some sort of trap. "Magical, but— no trapped. It was down in the well?"

Hermione nodded, pressing her face into his side for reassurance.

Severus narrowed his eyes and opened the locket.

A small figure of a young man peered out of the small portrait. "Severus? Is that you, brother? Help me!"

Severus' eyes widened with shock and he struggled to hold onto the locket. " _Regulus?!"_

* * *

As Severus stood side-by-side with Alastor as they both cast spells over the aged locket, Hermione affixed herself tightly to Minerva, who seemed equally happy to have Hermione clinging to her. Minerva held her daughter lovingly against herself, soothing her hair and her back, and Hermione seemed calm enough to deal with whatever came as long as Minerva and Severus were near her.

Sithiss hissed that _she_ could be there too, if she really wanted, but both Minerva and Severus had convinced the giant basilisk that revealing herself to one Alastor Moody would not make a positive impression, even on a good day.

Alastor was having enough problems getting over Snape, who he was convinced was the devil himself.

"This one of your tricks, Snape?" Moody growled.

"No, Mr Moody," Severus said evenly. "It is not."

"Dumbledore may trust you, Snape," Moody groused, "but I don't. A leopard cannot change his spots. You're a Death Eater."

" _Was_ a Death Eater," Severus corrected.

"Oh? Like that just stops when we haven't heard from your Dark Lord, eh?" Moody hissed. "The truth is here! Your badge of evil anchored to the Darkness of your core." Moody ripped up Snape's sleeve to expose his arm.

Pale but flawless skin revealed no Dark Mark.

Hermione clung to Minerva a little tighter, not liking the Auror's rough treatment of Severus in the slightest.

"Wha— how?" Moody stared at his arm and pointed his wand at it. " _Revelio!_ "

Shimmering white and gold light radiated off of Snape's arm, forming into fine scales and phoenix feathers. The strands of light arched over to Moody and zapped him with their radiance, a golden warmth spreading up Moody's arm.

Moody dropped Snape's arm as if burned by it.

Severus looked him in the eye, his face as expressionless as stone. "As I said, Mr Moody. _Ex_ -Death Eater."

"What _are_ you?" Moody rasped.

Severus met his eyes levelly. "Forgiven."

* * *

If Moody didn't doubt his grudge before, he definitely did when Hermione jumped up to wrap her arms around the dour-faced potions master to hug him tightly in front of everyone. Equally shocking, he simply adjusted her so she didn't choke him to death, and let her play with his hair.

Moody was many things, but despite his bias against Snape, he wasn't wholly unobservant. The young girl was obviously extremely fragile and very much dependent on her mother and her professors to provide her a sense of protection and stability, and from what he had been told of her rather abusive history while at Hogwarts— the girl had an alarmingly long list of traumas.

Strangely, she treated Snape with the kind of trust he suspected no one else in the student body would ever feel inclined to give him. And the magic that had touched him from Snape's arm— that had been pure Light and warmth. It sang of— love. It had made him think of summer days and warm sun, perfect clouds, and his favourite drink. It was not Dark Magic— not in the slightest.

Somehow, the man whom Moody had been convinced was the devil himself, had shed the Dark Mark. If that were possible, couldn't other things be possible? Had Dumbledore perhaps been right all along? Was Snape actually— trustworthy?

He had to admit that had he not had so much previous baggage in the way, just seeing how the man was so patient and tolerant as he tended to the traumatised young witch would have won him over. But then there was also a current of genuine affection there that was quite obvious if he cared to admit it.

The girl had been trapped in a magical suppression well. It was a miracle she was able to reach out as it was after that particularly brutal kind of trauma. Perhaps, he should take a cue from the girl and weigh the man on the evidence of the present, not the past. Merlin knew he'd done his own fair share of stupid as a young pup. None of it he had been proud of either. The only difference was, he had never been branded in such a way when he ran with his gang of young Scottish hellions, and he'd wisened up in time to set himself straight and become an Auror. Seven wizards from his once-peers had not been so fortunate. Two of them had died in Auror fights. Five of them were in Azkaban for doing things that made Death Eaters look like foolish children.

No, Moody _knew_ he had baggage, but it was only now, as he was forced to see a man's redemption despite all disbelief, that it was finally coming to light.

Hermione had slid down from Snape's side and clung to his robes for comfort, no longer needing the tight death-grip around the wizard's throat, but deciding it was "safe" enough to simply stand by him instead. She stared at him with a miniature Snape-like scowl.

Alastor knelt down and leveled his gaze to her. "Don't like me much, do ya, lass?"

"You're mean to Severus," Hermione said, gripping Severus' robes tightly. "It's not nice."

Alastor blinked. Nothing quite like a twelve-year-old telling you exactly what she saw. "I am an Auror. Sometimes we can't afford to be nice."

Hermione scowled. "Aurors are supposed to _protect_ people. Why aren't you protecting him? He hasn't done anything to you."

 _Fair question, Moody. Going to let a twelve-year-old tell you your place?_

Moody slumped. "I fear we got off on the wrong foot. I ask you forgiveness, young miss."

Hermione stared at him pointedly. "I'm not the one you should be asking." She pressed her nose into Severus' side.

 _Laid low by a young chit barely out of her first year. Good one, Moody. Are you going to suck it up and be a man about it, or try and blame him some more for your own sins, eh?_

Moody stood up and leveled his eyes with Snape's. "I'm sorry, Snape. I fear— I have misjudged you. I will endeavour to be better about it in the future and judge you not from the perceived sins of the past— but the deeds of the present."

Snape narrowed his eyes at Moody, but Hermione nudged him, showing no more mercy to him then she had Moody mere minutes before.

"Apology accepted, Mr Moody," Severus said tightly, but he looked down at Hermione. She beamed back up at him.

"This is all fine and well, gentleman," Regulus yelled from his portrait in the locket, "but can you get me _**out**_ of this bloody locket?"

* * *

It took a team of three curse-breakers and two witches known as "the Unravelers" to pull Regulus Black out of his portrait prison, and the moment they did so, Regulus fell straight to his knees and kissed the ground in pure praise.

"Thank Merlin, Hecate, and Morgan Le Fay," Regulus exclaimed, kissing the stone floor over and over again.

Minerva was starting to look as though she needed to expand her quarters— again.

"Mr— Lord Black," Moody stammered, unsure of what to call him. "How in Merlin's name did you end up trapped inside a locket?"

"Regulus, please," Regulus gasped, sitting on the floor like it was the best place ever. His hands touched the nearby rug in avid appreciation for its inherent rugginess. "I fear I disappointed my Lady mother very much, when I told her that the Dark Lord was but a sham— a half-blood liar. He was no champion of the Pure, and he far more things wrong with him than right. She beat me, chained me with one _Cruciatus_ after another, and then she forced me into that portrait. She cast me into the well, and promptly pretended that I had died in service of the Dark Lord— something she ardently preferred to the _truth_."

Regulus flopped backwards on the rug. "But she never found this." He pulled a locket off his neck and threw it to the side. "The Dark Lord's Horcrux. One of five that I know of. I tried to get Kreacher to destroy it, but he couldn't. Fire, hammers, shattering charms— nothing worked. I can't even open it. Don't be fooled by its innocuous appearance. It's as evil as evil comes."

The gathered stared at the fallen locket, and the locket seemed to stare back.

"Creepy," Moody grunted. "You say there are _five_ of these things?"

"That I know of," Regulus said as he stared up at the ceiling. "I am not foolish enough to think he would not create more after my disappearance. He believed that seven was the ultimate magical number. It would be logical to believe he would seek that end."

"Seven?" the witch from the Unraveler team whispered, aghast. " _Seven_ murders?"

Regulus sighed. "He has done far more than that, ma'am. Do not think that this mark on my arm was taken gleefully. I was forced to watch him kill three people with the implication it would be my own brother next if I did not— bow to his wishes."

"I am not proud of what I witnessed and was forced to do," Regulus said with a heavy, weary sigh. "Take me to Azkaban for my sins, if you must, but please, I beg you, let me take a shower first and tell my brother the truth. I will go wherever you require after that, with no resistance."

Moody looked like he was going to say something, but Hermione broke free of Severus and promptly affixed herself to Regulus, her small hands touching his arm where the Dark Mark was beneath his skin. She glared up at Moody, silent and poignant.

Moody took a deep breath. "Take your shower, Regulus. Then you can give me your memories of what has to you happened until now. That should be enough to keep you out of Azkaban. If you agree, I will question you under Veritaserum and take your testimony to the Wizengamot myself."

Regulus let out a dry laugh that kept going until he was breathless and wheezing. He wrapped his fingers gently around Hermione's small hand. His eyes stared off into nothingness. "I am yours, my Lady. You have saved me. Command me, and I shall lay my very life down for you."

Hermione stared down at his face and caressed his eyebrows with her hands. "I'd rather have a hug, I think," she said, moving his hair away from his face.

Regulus let out a choking sob and drew the young witch against his chest and held her tight. "As my Lady commands."

Hermione snuffled into his chest. "You do need a bath, though. I agree."

Regulus hugged her tighter, tears of relief and joy falling from his eyes.

* * *

"Brother," Regulus said as he stared up at the empty wall above the stairs. "I really do like what you've done to the place."

"Master—" Kreacher appeared at the top of the stairs. He tugged on his ears and stared, mouth working silently. "Master Regulus is alive?"

"Kreacher," Regulus knelt down as the house-elf practically slammed into him, crying, pulling his ears, crushing himself to Regulus. "There, there, I'm here now. Mother just got carried away this last time."

"Couldn't go there! Couldn't go there!" Kreacher wailed. "Couldn't see. Couldn't check! Couldn't _know_."

Regulus hugged the house-elf. "Not your fault, Kreacher. Truly, it's not. You have always been so very loyal— a good friend. I hold you blameless in this. If you wish to show your gratitude, then show it to the one who saved me, hrm? Hermione."

Kreacher's eyes went wide.

"You don't have to pretend for my mother anymore," Regulus said. "Not anymore."

Kreacher nodded silently.

Sirius, who was staring at his little brother with a rather gobsmacked expression on his face, came up and wrapped Regulus in a bone-crushing hug. "Brother."

Regulus gasped. "Heard about my little fall out with mum, eh?"

"Why didn't you _tell_ me?" Sirius blurted out, hurt.

"It would have only caused you harm, brother," Regulus said, rubbing his arm. "Then you and I both would have been down there, rotting eternally in sensory limbo."

Sirius shook Regulus by the shoulders. "Regulus, I—"

"Forgiven, brother," he said sadly. "If anything there is something far more deserving of that apology."

Sirius looked at him with incomprehension.

"Severus came to you that night with a message to move the Potters and save their lives. He knew that the moment they were safe, he would be be killed as the leak. He did it anyway," Regulus said, shaking his brother with his hands. "You never told them, did you?"

Sirius made a pained face. "He was the _enemy_ , Reg—"

"He was my brother too!" Regulus hissed. "I could have delivered that message, but he chose to do it instead. He did it so that I could perform my task for the Dark Lord and remain pristine in his favour.

"He saved me, though mother saw to it that I never lived that down. And then what? You turned him away and you forced him to go to Albus Sodding Dumbledore and pledge himself to the old man's service to try and save them _without_ your help. Only it was too late, wasn't it? You'd already made that sodding rat your Secret Keeper, and you know how well _that_ ended." Regulus closed his eyes. "I'm not here to fight with you, brother. I'm here to tell you that this isn't back then. It isn't about being a Dark wizard or a Death Eater anymore, and, deep down, I think you know that. I think, you're coming around all on your own, but you just can't bring yourself to admit you were wrong."

"He's a Dark wizard!" Sirius protested weakly.

" _I'm_ a Dark wizard!" Regulus hissed. "I was _born_ into this family of Dark wizards. And. So. Were. You. _You_ practiced those Dark curses by candlelight just as I did, until one day, you woke up. And then I woke up. And if you think it's possible for you to leave all that madness behind, then you must believe that Severus can too."

Suddenly Sirius crushed his brother to him and sobbed, pressing his face into his little brother's hair. "You're right, brother. It's time I grew up too."

* * *

"I just wanted to lock her down in the cellar, ya know?" Ron whined. " I figured I'd lure her in and then sneak out, shutting her in. She could just sit in the dark awhile, and I could go and eat my dinner in peace. She just fell in, and I thought, well, it served her right, aye? Getting me in trouble with everyone. It's her fault I'm having to take a test to see if I can even get into second year. Turned Harry against me. Making all the teachers so bloody _happy_. So I left her there. I figured, after we had our fun, I'd go let her out. It was just a prank, yeah? I didn't mean to hurt her."

Molly wrung her hands. "You see? He didn't mean to hurt her!"

"Mr and Mrs Weasley," Kingsley Shacklebolt said firmly. "We need your permission to administer the three drops of Veritaserum. We hope this will confirm for us exactly what happened, and then we can put this entire mess behind us."

Molly and Arthur quickly signed the parchment in front of them and nodded firmly.

Kingsley unlocked a wooden box that was sitting nearby and lifted out a small vial and dropper.

"One, two, three," Kingsley said dripping the clear fluid into Ron's mouth. "Now, Mr Weasley. Please detail everything that you thought, said, and did during the period of time from when you first went to hide from Miss McGonagall until the time you turned up for dinner."

* * *

Ron kicked a rock as he walked about the grounds, grinding his teeth in frustration and anger. Why couldn't he just play something with Harry like it was supposed to be? But nooooo, instead, Sirius had to suggest they all play nice— with HER.

Merlin, she made him so mad.

All that bushy hair and buck teeth. The Win-gard-ee -um Levy-OH-sa chit.

Then her stupid Muggle parents had go and die and all the teachers started to pity and protect her. Then she went and somehow got herself blinded, and they pitied and protected her even more. Somehow, she'd even gotten her hands on Lord Lucius Malfoy's walking cane. She stooped so low as to garner the favour of a bloody _Malfoy_. A _**MALFOY!**_ Bloody evil snakes, the lot of them!

She looked a lot better falling down the stairs. That scared little face had really suited the frizzy little bint. He grinned to himself when he remembered the very first time he'd done it. That had been so great!

That look of pure panic when she couldn't find her wand, when he and his mates had embedded it into Sir Cadogan's portrait, almost touching the ceiling, now that had been _priceless_. The panic, the stupid look of desperation— not like she was going even to use a wand, anyway. She was bloody _blind_ , for Merlin's sake!

He wished she'd stayed blind. That would've been so much better.

The feel of being in charge, being the leader for once. Now _that_ was what it was all about. Finally, for once, he was in control, and if felt really good.

Because of her "disability", she was allowed to sit at an assigned seat near the teacher's desk. Every professor would hand her the assignments personally. They would all ask her if she had any questions. Worst of all, she got to leave class early to make her way to the next class. And she would wave that expensive snake-headed cane in everyone's face as if to say how special she was. To add insult to it all, she got to sit up at the Head Table so the professors could cut her food up for her and help her eat. There was nothing special about food. Just grab it and go to town just like everyone else. Why was she so bloody _special_?

Oh, and now? Now that she was McGonagall's little pet kitten and some confirmed victim of bullying? Justified punishment, more like. Now, the little chit hid behind the robes of all of their professors, following them around like a lost duckling. She always sat up front by the professor's desk, and they always seemed to talk to her. She would smile up at them with this sick look of appreciation before going back and scribbling whatever nonsense on her parchments. She was nothing but a little brown-noser and _everyone_ knew it.

When he worked so hard to ostracise her from Gryffindor and the rest of the school, she would just go out and sit under a tree or in a window and study. Professors would stop and ask her how she was, point out something in her books, and then leave her to it. It was _disgusting_. Every kid out there knew you were never friends with adults, and any adult who was friends with someone their age had to be sick in the head. _Everyone_ knew that.

He'd caught her feeding a giant red and orange bird a large bunch of grapes in the courtyard. A bunch of Hufflepuffs— psh, they were all such idiots— were gathered curiously around her. She distributed grapes to each one, allowing them to take turns feeding the creature. The phoenix was the headmaster's own familiar. It was on the back of his chocolate frog card. That was just further proof that she was getting more favouritism coming her way as the all-around teacher's pet. He could just scream! What he wouldn't do to have a phoenix to hang around with. Especially since his stupid old rat kept running away. Stupid rumours accused Scabbers of being the rat they caught as an illegal Animagus and the traitor responsible for the murder of Harry's parents. They were all bloody idiots. Scabbers was just a stupid old rat. He couldn't even find his way back out of a cereal box without help. There was no way he was a Death Eater! He probably wandered off and got eaten by an owl. Maybe he could get the headmaster to replace Scabbers with a new familiar like an owl. That would be pretty cool.

Ron kicked another stone. What he _really_ wanted was Hermione Muggle-born Granger out of his life for good. Adoption or no adoption. That was what she was. A pain. An annoyance. A buck-toothed menace.

She'd always finish her her bloody potions first. Then, she would help out that annoying Neville to keep the squib's cauldron from exploding all over him. Neville was just way too soft-hearted to tell her she was a freak like everyone else. And that entire time when she was blind— oh it made him so _mad—_ Snape taught her how to read the recipes from the board with her wand and then guide her hands to all the utensils and ingredients she needed, telling her which was which. Well, yeah, _of course_ she was going to finish first after he practically told her everything! Even now, she often felt for her bottles instead of actually looking at them. She sniffed them as if it actually told her what was inside. What was even worse? Some of the Slytherin were gesturing her over to get help on their brewing.

Finally deciding that he could care less about playing hide and seek with the little freak, Ron plunked himself down in front of a wooden door. He idly mused that it must lead to the Black family root cellar. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried very hard to forget that Hermione Granger McGonagall whatever had ever even existed. Hrm? What was this? The cellar door felt oddly _warm_?

Standing back up, Ron reached out to touch the wooden door of the cellar with one hand. It thrummed with a kind of strangely enticing warmth. It felt— really good. Calming. Peaceful. The dark thoughts, the seething hatred he had been harbouring inside himself towards that bloody chit, the little freak girl who _always_ seemed to bend the adult ears her way— all that seemed to be replaced by a feeling of welcome, of total acceptance. Yeah, those _were_ the right things to feel. He _knew_ it! He read the Prophet. He _knew_ Skeeter had written the truth about the freak— every last bit of it.

He opened the door and a pleasing sort of warmth met him. Ah! This was what made Grimmauld Place so great. Why hadn't Sirius allowed them down here before? Maybe he was hiding it— keeping the very best stuff all to himself.

 _All you can dream_

 _Begins with a thought_

 _Feed me your blood_

 _To get what you ought._

 _Give to me your hatred_

 _And I shall give you bliss._

 _Throw yourself into my embrace_

 _And your offering in my Abyss._

A dim light glowed in the room. There were several portraits on the walls. Most he didn't recognise. One was a sultry-eyed witch with wild black hair and a crooked wand. He felt sort of drawn to her like— like there was a fledgling connection of sorts between them.

There was a chair on the far wall, and he was drawn to it. The sides were like the twisted growth of roots. A solitary black velvet cushion lay on top. He had to sit on it. It felt so very _right_.

Sitting down, the strange vines encircled his ankles and his wrists, locking Ron into place on the chair. A vine burrowed into his wrist as though it were seeking his blood, but he didn't resist. As the room darkened, he could sense the little Mudblood just outside.

Yes. Come closer.

The door opened, but she hesitated, clearly apprehensive.

He hissed lowly as the root buried itself deeper into his arm.

"Help!" he moaned, smiling serenely. "I'm trapped in something!"

That was all it took. His ploy had worked like a charm. She was coming.

Come here, little Mudblood. Welcome to my parlour.

She walked forward— he could see the very blood coursing through her veins. Closer now— closer!

"I'm over here," he moaned piteously. "Please help me, I'm stuck."

She was approaching a little faster now. There! She was standing directly on the trapdoor. He could hardly wait!

The trapdoor sprang its trap and she fell in with a short scream.

Her panicked screams and cries, the sounds of scraping, crawling, and frantic, desperate clawing filled the cellar. It was like the sweetest of songs to his eager ears.

Ron's eyes fluttered happily as a flood of glorious, rushing warmth filled him from top to bottom.

"Mudblood filth," he whispered blissfully, rewarded instantly by a pleasurable flood of endorphins. "Freak."

The Mudblood's screams were slowly fading away, growing quieter, until silence filled the room once again. Meanwhile, the vines were slowly covering Ron's body, crawling over his flesh, sliding under his clothes. They pulsed rhythmically as they fed off of his anger, hatred and deep desire to _hurt_ his chosen victim. Ronald's head lolled to the side, his eyes rolling back in pure ecstasy.

It was in that moment, Ron _knew—_ he knew would be back again and again for this most glorious union.

* * *

Molly was weeping hysterically in Arthur's arms as he rubbed her back soothingly, trying to calm her, but his own face was pale as a vampire's, and perhaps it was just as bloodless. Kingsley stood with a look of absolute horror and disgust on his face. The three Ministry witnesses, the scribe, and the representative from the Underage Use of Magic Office all looked as though they were either going to pass out or hurl violently.

Kingsley recovered first, barking orders that every _i_ was dotted and every last _t_ was crossed. The scribe snapped out of it and was writing away furiously. Kingsley was drawing the pertinent memories out of his mind and placing them in carefully marked vials. Each of the witnesses did the same. Then each of them affixed their official seal upon the vials.

"That vile place needs to be _**destroyed**_!" Molly wailed, but even as she said the words, she looked down at Ron with a brand-new sense of horror and revulsion, something she never thought she would feel for one of her own children. Part of her knew, now, that the darkness had been festering inside of her youngest son, long before the evil chamber had seduced him. Sure, he had used it to lure in Hermione McGonagall under its influence, but it was obvious that had he not entertained the dark thoughts that he did, there would have been nothing the chamber could have done to attract him to itself in the first place, much less to give him such a terrible and grotesque high.

The harsh reality was driving her to tears, and she continued to wail inconsolably.

Ronald, on the other hand, deep in the memory of the pleasure, was gazing blissfully through everyone, ignoring them.

"Where did I go wrong?" Molly cried. "What did I do wrong with him?"

It was all Arthur could do to comfort his wife by holding her tight and staring blankly at the ecstatic face of his youngest son.

* * *

It took a month of very hard work to dismantle the Dark well under Grimmauld Place, and it took a very special kind of bait to get the cellar door to appear again.

Ronald Weasley, wrapped up tight and firmly restrained, was brought in on a stretcher just outside the the garden path. Many had tried to lure the door to appear, but it remained stubbornly out of sight until Ronald was brought in as a last resort.

In exchange for his, albeit non-compliant, cooperation, Ronald was allowed to be sent to St Mungo's, free of charge, for intensive treatment with top mind-healers as well as extensive long-term neural pathway training and regeneration to counter the insidious darkness he had invited willingly into his body and mind. Arthur and Molly, who knew they could never afford it otherwise, gratefully agreed.

Once the place had been thoroughly dismantled and purified, Sirius paid for a team of the finest Wizarding architects to design and build him the very opposite of what had been there before: a temple of tranquility. Marble and gilded pillars, a mirror pool, koi ponds, gilded fountains and multiple exquisite gardens later, the temple was looking as serene as anyone could ever wish to be. Regulus set a crystal gazing ball in the center of the mirror pool and in a spontaneous act of christening, smashed the locket that had been his prison for over a decade on the temple's pristine altar.

In perhaps a gesture of acceptance, the temple area began to glow with a lunar radiance, filling the chamber with sacred space. Above them they could see the sky— much like the ceiling in the Great Hall of Hogwarts.

Harry, who seemed greatly relieved by the goings-on, placed the picture of his parents at the foot of the altar, a look of peace finally finding a home on his face. Despite it all, he redoubled his studying efforts, determined to take his aptitude test and pass to make his parents proud of him. While the test was months away, Sirius already believed he would do well.

* * *

Severus transferred the young thunderbird to the large scrying crystal in the temple pool, frowning somewhat when she flapped her wings a few times and caused rippling waves to wet the tips of his dragonhide boots. She looked at him somewhat sheepishly, rubbing her head against his knuckles.

"Tch," he admonished. "I'll be outside talking with Black and Potter. Black seems to think a chat is in order. Minerva is right over there, chasing her own tail in the moonlight."

Minerva meowed loudly as if to complain about his description.

Hermione lay her head against Severus' hands and chirped.

He touched his forehead to hers, and she chirred softly.

"You're so high-maintenance," Severus teased.

Hermione hung her head, giving a sad chirp.

Severus lifted her head up with his fingers. "I wouldn't have it any other way, Hermione."

Hermione brightened and a few puffy white clouds with rainbows formed around them.

"That's my girl," he chuckled warmly. "Making moonbows and defying all natural weather patterns."

Hermione beamed at him, fluffing her feathers with pleasure.

Gently, Severus kissed the top of her beak and turned, gliding out of the temple grounds without a sound.

* * *

"I'm going to tell you story, Harry," Sirius said, rubbing his day stubble around his face. "It's a true story that I think you need to hear, and it's the reason why I was so upset to hear about your behaviour with Mini-gonagall."

Harry hung his head in shame, but nodded.

"When I was your age, I met your father on the train to Hogwarts," Sirius began. "It was like most instant friendships. You fall in with group of blokes who make you laugh and you feel like you'll be together for the rest of your life. It was there that I met your father, Remus, and Peter."

Sirius stared off into the garden. "Like most magical-born kids, we all had made our decisions on what we wanted to be at Hogwarts. Your father, Remus, Peter— they all wanted to be Gryffindor. Me— I was doomed to be Slytherin if I followed the way of my family, and after seeing what horrors my family was capable of, you might understand why I was so adamantly against it."

Sirius sighed and tapped his fingers against the glass of his tea. "As we all sat proclaiming our fervent hopes for Gryffindor, there was this one skinny boy sitting with a somewhat shy-looking red-headed witch. We, of course, just had to ask them what house they wanted to be. The boy said Slytherin, and it was like he was holding up a giant flag with my parent's faces emblazoned on it with the words 'Praise Be to the Power of the Pureblood Bigot'!"

Sirius pinched his nose and looked at Harry closely. "I made up my mind then and there that this boy was my enemy. This boy, regardless of who he was or where he came from, was no better than the rest of my bigoted Pureblood family. I forgot all my mutual fears with my brother. I forgot that as a child I had sat in the library of my mother's father and practiced Dark curses by moonlight. I forgot exactly what I came from— and did _exactly_ what they did so well: I picked someone to blame and blame them until the day that I died."

Sirius took a gulp of his tea and collected his thoughts. "I tormented him endlessly. I provoked every single time I could. I set blame whenever I could. I set my mates on him whenever I could, and when I was in my sixth year, I led him to the Whomping Willow and almost got him killed. I called it a schoolboy prank. I said he deserved it for sticking his beak of a nose into my business. I made up every reason I could to justify my hatred and scorn. Then, when he fought back, well, that was still more reason for me to go after him. Your father, Harry, saved that boy that night. Of course, too much had gone on for forgiveness. And when we were brought in front of Dumbledore, he favoured his most favourite house and dismissed it as a prank gone wrong. We knew better. _**I**_ knew better."

Harry looked somewhat horrified.

Sirius continued, "We were not kind people, Harry. We were bullies. And while your father did save that boy's life on that terrible night, it did not stop him from hanging that same boy up by his ankles in front of the whole yard, filling his mouth with soap bubbles, and pulling down his trousers for all to see."

Harry's eyes widened with shock.

"We were horrible people, Harry," Sirius said. "I was a horrible excuse for a human being. While we stuck up for each other, we terrorised the school as a team. No one was safe. Slytherin most of all. They didn't even have to do anything— we justified to ourselves, it saying they deserved it all because they merely dared to _exist_."

"Then, one day, with graduation far behind us, that boy became a man, and that man came to me with information to save your parents in exchange for forfeiting his own life to the Dark Lord when he inevitably found out. He begged me to move them. He pleaded with me to tell them they were in danger and not to trust anyone, but I didn't tell them. I didn't tell them because I believed that man was evil and dirty as the Dark Lord himself.

"In desperation, he want to Albus Dumbledore, swearing his life to his service if only— if only he would save your father and mother and you— anything to protect them, but the endgame was already in play. I had already convinced James and Lily to make Peter the Secret Keeper, and I had driven Remus away, telling him he was too untrustworthy to keep such secrets. When I came back to your parents and saw— I _knew_ who had really betrayed us, and I blindly went after him."

"But Peter was ready," Sirius explained. "And he murdered twelve Muggles and left his own finger just as I arrived to be framed."

Sirius stared at Harry. "I am a fallible human being, Harry, and it took hearing about how you helped to torment a young, blinded orphan girl to realise you were on a treacherous path that was very familiar to me. I found I was watching myself and James all over again. I don't want this path for you, Harry. You are far better than that. You are better than me or James. I have no doubt in that whatsoever."

"That little blind witch helped to free me from Azkaban, Harry," Sirius said. "If it were not for her and for Severus, we would not be here. You would be back with the Dursleys— and I would still be branded a criminal."

Sirius stood, walking over to the tall Potions master as he stood watching the scene, as silent as a spectre.

Sirius pulled out his wand and held it high. "Severus. I have been a rampaging git, berk, and a complete arse to you since day one. I have instigated many terrible things. I have even set you up to be murdered. I was a jealous, angry boy who could only blame you for every bad thing in the world— and then I thought, Lily didn't deserve the likes of you as a friend. I poisoned her against you. I poisoned my friends against you. I blamed you and my baby brother for all the things I was guilty of myself. I am—" Sirius choked. "I am truly sorry, Severus. I know I can't take back those years, but I swear on my name, my life, and my magic that if you allow me, I will attempt to be the man I should have been—- the person I should have been instead of the one I was." Sirius' wand flashed with his magic. He dropped to his knees and hugged Snape's dragonhide boots. "Forgive me, Severus, and I will try to be the person Lily thought I was."

Severus stood stiffly, but his eyes flicked over to the temple where a young thunderbird was playfully splashing water on a silver tabby cat with her wings. "Do get up, Black," he said, his lip curling slightly. He looked Sirius straight in the eyes and leveled his gaze at the other man. "Be the person Harry needs you to be, Black. Be the person that Lily knew you could be— and I will attempt to let go my grudge against you and your long history of idiocy."

Sirius let out his breath slowly and then burst out laughing. "That, Severus, is as good as gold coming from you." He bowed his head with newfound respect.

Harry looked back and forth between the two men, suddenly realising there was so much he didn't know about either of them. Yet, even so, as he watched Sirius extend his hand, Severus' pale hand reached out in turn to meet it.

Suddenly, there was a loud splash and a sharp crack of thunder as one young thunderbird landed on their joined hands, her wings spread wide as if she were the top of a living totem pole. She let out a squawk that sounded like a thunderclap, and the rain came pouring down. Yet, even more strangely, all of the gathered were dry, as if protected by their own personal umbrella.

A silver tabby jumped up onto the table and stuck her head down into Harry's glass, lapping up the last of his iced tea.

Harry grinned.

Magic really _was_ awesome.

* * *

 **A/N:** I was going to end the chapter with "And everyone dies. The End" but Dragon told me that it probably wouldn't be the best idea. Praise her if you agree.


	3. Cerberi, Basilisks, and Spiders, Oh My!

**A/N:** For those of you wondering if Hermione will have a "normal" second year, I think I'm leaning towards no. She will never trust "people" in the way she did before. Too much has happened, and she has learned that adults were there for her when those her age did nothing to help her. This is not to say she won't make friends, because she can still do that. It will just take longer, and it will start with those that didn't stand by and watch her get thrown down the stairs and have her cane stolen from her.

On a happy note, thanks to all who have sent positive wishes on my final exams. I have managed to pass last semester when things were looking damn grim. Thank you all for your understanding and support in a very difficult time.

 **Beta Love:** The Dragon and the Rose, Dutchgirl01, & Commander Shepard (who has been displaced from space to infiltrate my stories hehe)

 **Kiss of the Basilisk**

 **Chapter 3**

 **Cerberi, Basilisks, and Spiders, Oh My!**

 _Just as the snake sheds its skin, we must shed our past over and over again._

 _-Buddha_

"Stand still, Mini," Draco said as he had his arms up as the seamstress measured him all over.

"How can I stand still when she keeps tickling me!" Hermione complained, fighting the urge to squirm.

"Pretend that you're a snake," Draco suggested.

Hermione shot him a wry glance.

Draco flushed. "In a tree, frozen, waiting for a bird to fly by."

Hermione rolled her eyes, but held very still. "I didn't have to do all this last year."

"You weren't getting custom tailored robes either," Draco reasoned.

"Do I _really_ need custom robes? Hermione asked, slightly exasperated

Draco turned his head and mouthed "transformation" silently.

Hermione flushed and stopped questioning.

It took an hour or so for all the measuring to be done, and Draco seemed to be glad he had company being measured. She did have to admit that it was pretty boring to suffer through all by one's self.

Ice cream was on the menu shortly after the robe fittings, and Draco and Hermione took bets on how long it would take Lucius to lick down his ice cream cone. Somehow, he managed not to drip any over himself, and both children wanted to know how he did it.

The most telling of all of the social acrobatics was that Lucius was wearing a short-sleeved suit— something he hadn't done since he was less than twenty— and he was doing it with great flamboyance. The children were quite sure he did it just to make people that knew him slam into walls, carts, and racks in their utter shock at seeing him (and his arms) exposed in such a way. It was positively scandalous. Whispers went through Diagon Alley that Lucius Malfoy's arms were showing in the same type of hushed, disbelieving whisper that one might mention a witch's ankles showing in public. Then, to be even more socially obvious, he made sure everyone knew that his new goddaughter was always under his watchful eye.

Hermione wore the her own smaller version of the Malfoy signet ring, just as Draco did, and the people who paid attention to such things couldn't help but stare, but Hermione knew that Lucius did everything for a reason, just as Severus did. Putting her out in the open, protected by him, was a clear statement to those who knew him or even knew of him. She wasn't quite sure what that statement was, and Draco wasn't sure either, but they were willing to bet it involved protection of some sort, status, or the standard mess with my family and I will see your family raised to the ground with nothing. There was the backup "Mess with her and you will deal with ME" general threat, and Draco and Hermione speculated how long it would take his father to shift and eat someone if they were stupid or suicidal enough to try.

Lucius' basilisk form was a glorious ivory with his trademark silver eyes set on a black field. Hermione would often gaze into them and soothe his scales in the morning during the morning sleepy waking up ritual. In the sun, he had an almost cloudlike pattern to his scales, and when Hermione curled up around him, her glossy black scales made him stand out all the more. Instead of a red feather crest on his head, he had a vibrant sapphire blue one, matching his peacocks, and Severus seemed to think he was just showing off.

Hermione loved to soothe Severus' feather crest, caressing his emerald feathers with a smile, but that usually happened just before he snapped her up and carried her off to the bath to have her morning soak. Hermione would lurk under the water like a crocodile with her just eyes and part of her nostrils showing, trying to be cunning and sneaky, and Severus would slither by, pretending to not notice her. She would, of course, pounce him, and he would mysteriously dodge. She never gave up, though.

Severus and Poppy worked on a form of lenses for Draco and Narcissa to protect them from random basilisk gazes, and Hermione sneakily suggested that perhaps they could have Cadmus give Poppy a pair for herself. And, she added, he could put them on for her.

Lucius and Severus proclaimed their little basilisk a proper Slytherin, and Minerva managed to demonstrate that basilisks could indeed drop their heads against other objects like a faceplant.

Minerva was a beautiful silver and gray cloud patterned basilisk, and she had a crest of red and gold feathers on top of her head (defying the supposed rule that _only_ male basilisks had feathered crests), almost as if she was daring Severus and Lucius to say something about it. They, wisely, did not. Hermione was feeling slightly ordinary next to her, but Minerva reminded her that black went with everything. Severus, of course, heartily agreed.

Draco and Hermione became very close by swimming together. Hermione would be in her basilisk form, and she would close her eyes. Draco would guide her with his feet, legs, and his hands, telling her where to go, when to turn, and when to slow down. They crashed into the giant squid a few times, but quickly managed to come down to a way of doing things. Draco told her that she made the world's best beach chair, and would flop on after they swam for hours until someone came to fetch them or hunger lured them back.

Sometimes, Hermione felt like Draco was sad that he couldn't join the serpent cuddles, and part of her was starting to feel like he was close enough emotionally, but Sithiss warned her that younger people had to do a little growing before making such a life-altering decision. It was one thing to claim an adult, but children often changed their minds, and Hermione realised that what the older snake said was true. She didn't want Draco to ever regret being what he was later. What he wanted to get married, after all? How would that play out? While Hermione wasn't an expert on human relationships in any way, she knew that finding people to trust was hard enough— finding ones that would stay with you for life— an exceedingly long one at that— would be extra-special. Minerva, however, offered to teach Draco how to be an Animagus if he truly wanted to have another form. There was no guarantee, of course, that he would be a snake, but Hermione said maybe he could be a falcon and fly through the skies with her and Fawkes. Draco confessed that would be appealing too. He hadn't taken the plunge yet due to the entire run around with a mandrake leaf in his mouth for a month requirement, but Hermione seemed to think the lure of having another form would eventually win out.

They caught a glimpse of Harry shopping with Sirius, and after seeing him getting things from the second year list, it seemed as though Harry had put his life back on track from his first year shenanigans.

"Hey, Mini!" Harry greeted, hoisting a stack of new books with him.

Hermione flushed, still unsure how she had gone from Hermione to Mini-gonagall in such a short time. She had begun to appreciate it more. I reminded her of Minerva and the name wasn't immediately associated with ridicule and falling down staircases.

"Hi, Harry," Hermione greeted. "Why are your glasses broken?"

Harry slumped. "I mispronounced Diagon Alley."

"To what?" Draco asked, taking up position to protect Hermione. Her discomfort in crowds was still very high, and while she was branching out, she was still very cautious.

"Diagonally," Harry replied. "I ended up in some shop in Knockturn Alley."

"Tough stuff there, Potter," Draco mused. "You didn't end up in the brothel did you?"

Harry flushed. "No! Sirius figured out what happened quick. I was in some old shop with really weird stuff like shriveled hands and dusty everything."

Draco just shook his head. "No place in Knockturn is a safe place, Potter. Good thing Sirius got you out of there right away."

As Sirius approached, Hermione's fight or flight instinct shifted into panic, and she immediately affixed herself to Lucius, who was just making his way out of Eyelops to get a fresh supply of feed for his owls.

Lucius blinked, wrapping his cloak around her, looking around to see what had disturbed the young witch, but as he saw Sirius and Harry he put the numbers together. Though Sirius had not done anything to her, Hermione always preferred to take in the world around her from a place of safety. The safe places pretty much equalled people with scale and fang alter-egos. Hermione, he knew, had no grudge against Sirius specifically, but he was no fellow snake.

Narcissa arrived shortly after, her left arm laden with a huge basket of snacks that would be the envy of everyone on the Hogwarts Express.

"Lucius," Sirius greeted, his voice sounding somewhat awkward and unpracticed. "Narcissa."

Hermione huddled behind Lucius' body, unsure how the confrontation would go.

"Sirius," Lucius rumbled, extending the name out with a strange, elongated, pseudo-hiss.

"Hello, cousin," Narcissa greeted with a bow of her head.

"Hey, Mini-gonagall," Sirius greeted, trying to lure the girl back out of her shell.

Hermione peered around Lucius. "Hello, Mr Black."

Sirius chuckled. "I get the Mr and my baby brother gets the Lord. Why is that?"

"Perhaps it is your canine duplicity, Sirius," Lucius mused.

Sirius shook his head amusedly. "Once a dog always a dog, is that it?"

Lucius gave a gallant shrug. "If you prefer, I can call you Lord Scruffy."

Hermione perked. "Lord Scruffy!" Hermione, Harry, and Draco exchanged amused glances.

Sirius slumped, realising he was fighting a losing battle and it had only just started.

A sly smirk was spreading across Lucius' face.

"I suppose I'm already Auror Scruffy. Why not Lord Scruffy?" Sirius relented.

"At least you gain the Lord, cousin," Narcissa mused, distributing apples to the group.

Sirius's expression changed into something far more sombre. "I wish to speak with you, cousin, if it pleases you."

Narcissa tilted her head with curiosity. She handed the snacks over to Lucius as they exchanged a meaningful glance. "Lead on."

The three children stared off after them as they walked off to a small cafe down the alley.

* * *

"They dismantled it, " Sirius said after a long drink of his coffee. "They purified every single brick in that place."

Narcissa's face tightening before she seemed to let out a long sigh. "Thank Merlin for that," she finally said at last. "Far too late for my sister, but she was doomed from the moment our father threw us in that awful place— Andromeda and me. It was the last good thing she ever did. It was the last sane thing."

Sirius scratched the table with his fingernails. "I'm sorry I never put it together. I blamed my family for everything, I never even thought, in my narrowed focus, that you— that all of us were victims."

"Our family's Darkest legacy, Sirius," Narcissa sighed. "So shameful that none of us feel as though we can speak of it. It never got better. Is the young Weasley doing any better?"

Sirius shook his head. "Too soon to say. He let it in once, and we both know what happened to those who willingly sit in that chair."

Narcissa's eyes were haunted. "Bellatrix— I miss her. The real Bellatrix is long gone, but I still miss her."

Sirius put a hand on his cousin's. "I wish I remembered her as you do."

Narcissa nodded. "I truly feel for Molly," Narcissa admitted. "I am certain that she never expected to see such things from any of her progeny. Perhaps if she were a Black she might have, but Prewetts were hardly ever—"

Sirius shook his head. He looked over to where the children were playing amongst the clothing racks and discount tables. It was obvious that Harry was trying very hard to make things better between himself and Hermione, but the young witch was once bitten, twice shy. She clung to Lucius like a guardian turret, and then stayed close to Draco. She wasn't shunning Harry, but she was very cautious. Sirius had to admit he'd never seen Lucius in such full protective mode, save the few months after Draco had been born— where everything had to be washed five times over before holding him and even the house-elves had to take care not to sneeze on the newborn infant.

"I had the Aurors come clean out the place, Narcissa," Sirius said. "the relics of the Dark that the Blacks have collected there over the years are all gone, and good riddance. Alastor said he had no idea how much of the stuff I had been harbouring, and Merlin's pants, _**I**_ didn't either. I certainly don't want any of that rubbish being around if there are going to be children about. Never, ever again."

Narcissa nodded with understanding. "Didn't get in any trouble for it?"

"Nah, most of it was buried under a decade's worth of dust," Sirius replied. "You should have seen Harry trying to do his homework while scads of Aurors were roaming about, poking and prodding everything in the house."

Narcissa chuckled. "I'm surprised the Prophet wasn't there to accuse you of abusing your godson by exposing him to the evil Black family secrets."

"Oh, I am sure they wanted to, but Hermione was there visiting, and that is a no-touchy subject for the Prophet after Rita's last attempt to shame her." Sirius sighed deeply. "I wish I could crack that formal sort of exterior she has. She opens up a little around Harry, but only when Severus or Minerva are there with her— or even Lucius." Sirius seemed boggled by that last.

"She was abused by her peers, Sirius," Narcissa chided. "By Harry, specifically. No matter the sincerity of his apologies, it will still take a while for her to recover from that. And, since you are close to Harry, she probably suspects you will do much the same as he did."

"For once, I am innocent of such things," Sirius sighed.

"Consider it a learning experience, Sirius," Narcissa suggested. "She's this sensitive after a relatively short time of abuse. You tormented Severus for years. And you tormented more than just him year after year. Severus was simply too stubborn to give up, unlike poor Mayfair Abernathy. His parents ended up sending him off to the States for the rest of his education."

Sirius paled slightly and looked down. "I am— only starting to see the error of my ways, Narcissa. I'm not perfect by any means, but I need to be an appropriate role model for Harry, without trying to turn him into a clone of James or myself."

Narcissa sipped her tea and nodded. "At least you're seeing what you used to do for what it was."

"Aye, Sirius said with a nod. "I'd like to think you can teach an old dog new tricks."

Narcissa's face became serious. "Draco told me that last year, Harry ended up in the infirmary— mauled by a bear? What really happened, Sirius?"

Sirius frowned. "I'm not quite sure, Narcissa. He said that Ron and him found a place that was supposed to be off-limits. They explored—" Sirius winced, recognizing the all-too-familiar pattern," and they found something they didn't expect. It was a three-headed dog."

"A Cerberus? Truly? I haven't seen or heard of one outside of Greece in a long time."

"Yeah," Sirius said. "At one point, father had thought of getting one to guard the house, but we didn't have the room. They only stay small, cute, and adorable for so long. Then they start eating people."

Narcissa narrowed her eyes. "Perhaps you should speak to Severus about this. He might know why such a creature was brought to Hogwarts."

"You'd have to want something of real importance to be heavily guarded, Narcissa," Sirius sighed. "Harry admitted it was his fault for being somewhere he shouldn't. "No one else went the infirmary with bear maulings, so I tend to agree. Still— I have to wonder what Dumbledore is guarding."

* * *

One happy basilisk was slithering through the high grass around Black Lake minding her own business when she was flung into the air by the trampling of a very large something on a mission.

Hermione immediately closed her eyes. It was almost always safe to go slithering through the grass and sun herself on a rock somewhere before the rest of the school was up. How had she not seen that coming?

Ugh.

Now she was dizzy.

Hermione tried to raise her head and thought immediately better of it.

 _Flump._

 _Pant._

 _Pant._

 _Pant._

Merlin, she was surrounded by wolves!

She looked through her eyelids, trying discern what she was looking at.

 _slurp! Slurp! SLURP!_

 _Smack. Tongue to the face. Once. Twice. From the other side._

Hermione wobbled dizzily.

 _Whine._

She saw energy swirling in three patterns— three heads— yet there was only one body? What kind of thing had three heads and only one— oh.

Good job, Hermione. Forget all the stories your dad used to read you from his giant book of Greek mythology to get you to go to sleep?

If Hermione had hands at that particular moment, she would have smacked her face into one.

Well, unless she planned on making the rather large animal into an even larger basilisk companion, she should probably try to—

Suddenly she was being carried in its mouth. The large animal loped across the fields with loud pants and screeched to a half "somewhere." She was set down almost tenderly, smooshed between his legs.

More panting.

Again with the slurping.

Somehow she doubted if this was in the natural order of things. Didn't dogs tend to go after snakes?

She really should change back. Changing back was not always a smooth process, and she had never tried to do it trapped between the paws of a giant three-headed dog, but she was going to have to risk it.

She writhed a little, letting her body twitch and strain as it attempted to reverse her molecular structure. Her body shuddered, shrank in places, elongated in others, and the bones in her face cracked as they shrank. Her fangs folded into her mouth as one would close a desk drawer. Scales turned to smooth skin. Her arms stretched out first, then her legs. Her head felt awkward, as though it didn't belong where it was, and then the bones snapped into place with a slight crack, and she shook her head.

She had heard the older students talk about what happened when they drank too much— firewhisky? She'd never tried it, but if how she felt right now was any indicator, she had no interest in it. Her brain felt like she had just shoved it into a box and shook it around.

 _Slurp!_

Ack. Hermione looked around blearily.

Three very large canine heads stared at her intently from above.

She found the sight discombobulating, so she closed her eyes, shutting down the signals of light and sun-basked colour. She reached out her hands and felt for where she saw the rivers of magic— life— until she met flesh. She ran her hands over the canine's muzzle, teeth, tongue, and ears, stopping only when she was pegged by a random slurp.

 _Whine._

"Who are you?" Hermione asked. She felt something— a tingle in her head. She cocked her head and as if to listen.

 _Name me, and I am yours._

Hermione's eyes widened even as they were closed. No pressure.

Whatever you do, Hermione, don't pick the names Spot, Dog, Fluffy, or Dinky. Don't be like your cousin James who named every kitten Fluff, Fluffy, Fluffmeister, Fluffarino, and Flufftastic. Those poor kittens—

"Daemon is a Greek name that means guardian spirit, does this please you?"

There was pressure in her head as though something were moving around outside, wanting to get in.

 _I accept._

The pressure around her head reached the terminal point and she felt a sudden burst of heat rushing into her brain. It felt as though someone was filling her up with tea and she was the teacup.

She landed flat on her back with a startled cry, but she was lying between four warm legs and three heads were nuzzling her gently.

She opened her eyes, again feeling odd to _see_ what she did much better _feeling_. She felt his muzzle and it was as soft as velvet. He leaned down so she could scratch his ears— all three sets of them.

"Where did you come from?" Hermione asked.

 _Greece._

Well, that certainly made sense. "Can— er— do all cerberi speak?"

Daemon scratched behind all of his ears with his rear paws, one after another. _Mum spoke to us all the time. She taught us how to guard, how to protect, and how to know when we found someone we could respect._ He whined. _I didn't get to learn anything else. I was stuffed into a sack and taken away._

Hermione was horrified, her face growing pale. "That's so awful!"

Daemon wuffed. _It's okay. I have you now._

Hermione looked embarrassed. "I have no idea how to take care of you! What if… What if I'm a horrible dog-parent?"

 _You're not horrible. I'm already eating meat, so I don't really need a parent any more. Mum taught me how to hunt. I was the best in the entire litter!_ The three-headed dog beamed with pride.

"Please don't eat any of the owls or the castle's familiars," Hermione asked. "People would get very cross with me— and with you too."

Three heads cocked in different directions, seeming to think her request over. _Okay._

Hermione winced, the bright light was affecting her more than she expected. Her hand passed over her eyes instinctively, and the magical circlet that had been with her since being sacrificed in the Chamber of Secrets appeared, protecting her eyes from the sun's brightness. Blessed relief. It was better to be in the dark seeing only magic, heat, and energy than all that with blazing, painful colour.

She clutched Daemon's fur, pressing her nose into his surprisingly soft fur. It smelled like earth and spice, almost as if she was in the room where her mom used to bake biscuits for the holidays. He felt like a warm living pillow, and she just wanted to snuggle into him.

Daemon seemed to greatly approve. His mental warmth filled her mind and the beat, beat, beat of his tail in the air sounded like the low blades of a helicopter.

Frowning, Hermione realised something. Where was she going to put a huge three-headed guardian dog? Whose dog was he supposed to be? Were they going to come back for him? Then what? Would they take him away?

Daemon growled as she thought someone might take him away from her. She hugged him a little closer, rubbing his belly with her hands.

"Let's walk along the edge of the forest?" Hermione recommended. "I'm not allowed to go into the forest."

Daemon gave her a puzzled whine.

"It's _dangerous_ ," Hermione insisted.

Dubious thoughts from three heads poked at her brain.

"One day, maybe," Hermione told him with a smile.

One head nudged under her arm. _Get on._

"Hrm?" Hermione questioned.

 _Get on,_ he repeated. _Here. My head is down, crawl behind it. I will carry you._

"You can—"

Amused canine thoughts tickled her mind. _I am not a pup anymore. You cannot hurt me by climbing on me._

Hermione felt around, sensing the warmth of his body to tell where the "back" of his closest head was. She pulled herself up and tucked behind his neck. She felt around, her hands grasping his fur somewhat nervously.

 _Hold on tight. It won't hurt me._

Hermione didn't have to be told twice. She clutched his warm fur and pressed herself down onto his body like a jockey. She could only imagine if someone saw her out here like this— good thing it was early morning.

She felt his energy gather just before he bolted off in some random direction, carrying her with him.

 _Ohgodohgodohgod— Merlin, Hecate, and Nimue!_

Daemon was laughing in triplicate, his joy coming from three different heads. Wind was blowing through his ears, his mouth, and fur. The sense of him as he ran— the merging of their senses— caused no small amount of joy. She could feel his huge paws hitting the ground, the swish of his tail, and the swivelling of six different ears. As she clung to him, eyes closed and covered— it was then she could truly _see_. She could feel the very life thrumming around her, and three separate visions merged into one clear picture.

Hermione gasped as the hills rolled around her, the tall grasses and wildflowers waving as they flew by. She felt them tickle Daemon's furred sides as they bounded together through the undergrowth. The forest was zooming by on the right at a crazy, breakneck speed, and Hermione was laughing with pure exhilaration. As she got used to the rhythm, she loosened her grip on the canine's fur and lifted her hands out to catch the wind through her fingers.

Daemon bounded even faster, but this time Hermione didn't fear. She threw herself into the feel of the ecstatic pleasure of having everything going by so fast, the pure joy of living, and the triple happiness coming from all three canine heads. After a few minutes, he began to slow down, but they had covered much ground in-between times.

Daemon was sniffing the air, ears perked, and Hermione cocked her head, listening.

At first she thought she was getting a ringing in her ears, but then she realised Daemon was sharing his own senses with her. There— deep in the woods— she could hear children screaming.

Children screaming was never, ever a good thing.

Hermione twitched.

 _Thou shalt not go into the Dark Forest._

 _Twitch. Twitch._

Hermione hugged Daemon's neck tightly, pressing herself into his fur. She tried to focus her mind and reach the right person. She concentrated really hard, trying to form the face of Minerva in her mind's eye. She focused on the children screaming in the forest. She focused on how it made her feel, but she also focused on that she was safe. The danger came from within the Dark Forest.

 _We come!_

 _Stay where you are,_ Minerva's mind voice joined Severus' in a very firm demand.

Hermione twitched. Oops. She meant to just tell Minerva, but she had instead gotten everyone in the "family." She hunkered down on Daemon. "Company coming, don't be alarmed."

The three-headed canine snuffled her from two sides. _Friends?_

Hermione snuggled into his fur. "Family. Friends. Cherished ones."

 _Will remember,_ Daemon promised. _I am quite good at scenting. Mum said it was because I was always thinking with my stomach._

Hermione chuckled, rubbing his neck with his hands.

 _Don't be alarmed,_ Hermione concentrated her words carefully. _I made a large canine friend this morning. He won't hurt you._

 _Anti-Apparition Jinx is lowered and endpoint visual locked,_ Minerva's voice came clearly. _Just for this. Count of one, two—_

" _Incoming,"_ Hermione whispered to Daemon.

 _Three cracks in rapid succession came one after another._

Minerva, Severus, and Lucius arrived together.

Fawkes arrived in a swirl of flames.

Hermione sat up. "Daemon, this is my mother, Professor Snape, Lucius, and Fawkes." She looked into the forest with concern. "We should go now. The screams were a few minutes ago."

Daemon snuffled the gathered humans and one flaming bird and seemed content with the meet and greet.

Hermione tilted her head. "There is Sithiss too, but she's— under my skin."

Daemon's ears swiveled. _Where else would she be?_

Hermione stared at the left head, and he stared back. "You knew?"

She could hear Sithiss hissing chuckle inside her head. _Of course he knows. He's a cerberus. He was born and bred to be allies of Death's Chosen._

"Not feeling the Chosen part right now," Hermione confessed. "Feeling kind of stupid for not making the connection."

Hermione perked. She heard the sounds of distress. "We have to go. I can hear them crying!"

The adults looked torn. She obviously heard something. The giant three-headed dog heard something, but they could not.

Tell them to sit as you are. Daemon wuffed, eager to go. I will carry as I track. He lowered himself, pressing his heads to the ground.

"Daemon says to get on!" Hermione translated.

Dubious looks met with trust in Hermione over the rather ludicrous situation they were in. Trust in Hermione won out, and they all clambered onto the back of the giant hound. He rose up immediately, waiting only long enough to feel their hands cling to his fur.

And they were off, tearing off into the woods at high speed astride a very large thrice-headed hound. Daemon let out a long, triple-bay that rang through the forest. Hermione snuggled into Daemon's neck as Minerva pressed into her back, trusting Daemon's senses to guide them to the screams. Even as she relaxed, knowing that Daemon would take care of her, she felt the sheer amazement coming off her mother, Severus, and Lucius.

What amazed Hermione, however, was not that she was clinging to the back of her newfound three-headed friend. No, the fact that Daemon fit between the trees is what amused her the most. Save for his intentional bays, his paws hit the ground with an eerie silence.

The great dog skidded to a halt at the end of a clearing, his legs locking just enough to send him sliding across the forest floor like a cat sliding over a loose rug while chasing after a toy. He lowered his heads so each wizard and witch could climb down. Minerva patted Daemon on the head, having him stand back up to keep her daughter safe.

"Stay with him, Hermione," Minerva guided. Something seemed to pass between the elder witch and the huge cerberus.

Daemon snuffled her, pegged her with his left head's tongue, and then looked forward. Each head seemed to take up a turret position, filling in the range of where he could see.

Severus studied the dog with a wary eye. There were not that many three-headed dogs around Hogwarts, or rather, he knew of only the one. His misgivings, however, would have to wait. At this moment they had a mission, and the cerberus was scrupulously taking care of Hermione. That was all that really mattered to him. He looked up to Hermione, who looked ahead, even with her blinders on. She turned her head, eerily, facing him. Her lips turned in a smile as she extended her hand.

Severus gently touched her hand, squeezing it slightly to let her know he was close. Her eyes, even while covered, seemed to smile. The skin around her blindfold moved and wrinkled with smile lines. "Be careful up there," he whispered.

Hermione nodded to him, the chimes on her makeshift eye-covering tinkling with a light chime.

The cries were coming from around them, but they were muffled if not almost impossible to hear outside of the immediate area. Lucius had his wand out, but he charmed his cane to elongate. He set it up and placed it into Hermione's hand. The moment Hermione's hand wrapped around the silver snake's head, she smiled, nodding gratefully to him.

The adults seemed to realised the only reason he could hear the "screams" was due to a certain cerberus's connection to Hermione, but they walked together, watching each other's backs as they advanced forward. The forest floor turned to white as the ground became covered in fine, shimmering strands of silk.

The moment their feet touched the outer strands, however, the ground seemed to vibrate. Hermione sat up straighter, clutching the elongated cane in her hands. She grasped her wand, clicking it into the special cavity that kept her wand safe and unnoticed, yet as she held it, a soft green glow travelled down the length of the cane. Fawkes sat on her shoulder, a trail of red, orange, and blue flames moving down his body to his tail.

Spiders came surging forward from the light-blocked and shaded areas, erupting from holes both great and small. Minerva, Severus, and Lucius put their backs together and cast a ring of fire around them and began to wave great arches of magic and flame to deal with the onslaught. But, as the spiders moved forward, Hermione perked.

Heat signatures— small like children, but—

Centaur foals.

Lucius had often gone over battle tactics with her along with Draco. Draco always thought it was as boring as hell, but Hermione— well, her father had been a dentist. Battle strategy was definitely not his thing.

One, Sithiss couldn't come out to play as long as the centaur foals and any other unknown victims who might still be alive needed to be protected. Coming out to rescue potential victims only to end up petrifying them— not a good way to impress anyone. That also left out changing or even taking her blinders off. Who knows who or what she might accidentally look at. Two, rushing in blind on a giant three-headed dog— probably not a good way to _not_ distract her guardians, who were very busy fighting off multiple waves of spiders. Lucius would have called tactic two very Gryffindor. Hermione curled her lip. He was probably right. Three, going in without someone was not going to keep her safe either. That left out sneaking out to them and bringing them back. She was also twelve. While she knew she was far better mentally focused that the typical twelve year old, who knows what spells would be flinging, be flung, or were going to be flung in her general direction, and she would have no idea whatsoever how to counter them. Running in and getting zapped by battling wizards and witches? Please. That was a horrible way to be remembered. "That Hermione— sadly, she died trying to save those centaur foals. Such a waste." Hermione shook her head. Nope. Moving on. Four, was that a clear path around to the other side because of… sunlight?

She scanned the webs that were everywhere. Seemed as though everywhere the sun directly touched the silken fibres, they broke down— or they spiders had been careful not to go there. Which, however, was it?

Hermione watched the battle more closely, eyes focused on the flow of heat, magic, and life— and dark areas like voids that she was beginning to feel were the very opposite of life. Even the dark of night had a feel of life to it, but she had no time at that moment to ponder too closely.

Think, Hermione. Where do Acromantulas come from? Dense jungles, rainforests, caves in— Asia. Dense… always dense. Places that were typically dark and moist, with little to no natural sunlight. Acromantulas were not arboreal. They did not like to leave the ground. Some even made pit traps like trapdoor spiders, but most were like funnel-webs, their much smaller non-magical cousins. Lucius had pointed out from one of his library atlases that Acromantulas were a wizard-bred species that had gotten free and soon "out of control" as well. You could not command a spider, no matter how much you might try to breed some intelligence in. A spider did whatever the heck it wanted to— and if you were smaller, that meant eat you. If you were bigger, well— that meant you came with lots of friends, ensuring you could overwhelm any possible opposition you might run into.

Sort of like what was going on down below— Thankfully Minerva, Severus, and Lucius were not unarmed everyday humans armed only with large knives or limited ammo. Hermione tapped Daemon on the neck. "I'm going to get down so I can maneuver. I'll stand between your legs, okay?"

Three-heads looked down at her as she hit the ground. _Okay. Be careful. If it gets scary, climb back up._

"You got it," she promised.

First, all she had to do was cast the spell over the adults. That would protect them. That will allow her to get the message to them without fearing that the interruption would endanger their lives. She had a feeling though, the spell required a little, literal, grounding.

 _ **SNAP!**_

One head snapped a spider in two, and the other two heads tore the legs off a very, very large spider that was unlike the others down below. How large did Acromantulas get, anyway? Twelve, maybe fifteen feet? Large enough to think a twelve year old witch was worth trying to take out despite her overly large canine guardian?

She'd have to work fast. The less she was on the ground the better. In fact, she might have to just sleep with Daemon for a week after this was said and done. Just in case, well, anything happened.

She tapped her cane out in front of her and drew an arch. "Daemon, lend me your eyes?"

 _Of course._

Triple vision blurred and made her dizzy, but then it solidified into one highly-detailed panoramic scene. _Excellent._

She took her cane and drew it across the earth as she circled Daemon. When she came back to the front she dropped to her knees and tried to remember what Professor Babbling had said about runes. Her hands, thankful for the muscle memory of countless repetitive scribings, traced out Naudhiz for need, Eihwaz for strength, Sowilo for sun, and Algiz for protection.

"Runes must be charged to be effective," Babbling had said. "This can be from you, a moving energy such as water falling or rushing, solar or lunar energy, or the very energy of the earth. The earth is the longest lasting but the hardest to gather. Solar, however—"

 _ **SNAP!**_

 _ **SNAP!**_

 _ **SNAP!**_

Three sets of jaws tore into three different spiders above her, and each head shook wildly as the unlucky spiders made their death rattles.

She had never been so glad to be on the ally side of a cerberus before.

Hermione pointed the cane up, lifting the silver serpent head up so the emerald eyes blazed out. "Lumos Solem!" she cried.

The spell was bright. Even with her blinders she had to close her eyes under the cover to keep from wincing. Daemon whimpered a little, but then seemed to shake it off. The air above her blazed like the sun and activated the runes. A bright protection circle formed around them, glowing with radiant solar energy. She could feel the heat of it even without seeing it.

Using her cane, she guided the orb of sunlight over to her professors and mother _ **. Screeeeeees**_ of annoyed spiders told her she was going the right way. She focused on the thermal signatures of her cherished ones, and flung the solar orb over them.

Spiders rapidly scurried out of the way. Others seemed to shrivel up and die immediately. Others smoldered and slammed into each other in their haste to leave.

 _Sunlight hurts them— drives them away,_ Hermione projected clearly. _There are foals to the northeast of you. Centaur foals._

None of the trio needed to be told more than once, and they set into action, flinging up orbs to mark their path towards the frightened foals who seemed unable or unwilling to risk a bolt in any direction. Dead spiders from the battle were scattered everywhere, so it was unlikely that the frightened foals were going attempt making an escape through the spider carcasses that might prove to not be so dead, after all.

Daemon nudged her, and she climbed back on his back to hug his neck, holding her borrowed walking cane with somewhat shaking hands. Minerva was focusing on the forest canopy, giving it a judicious trimming so that true sunlight could bake down on the area. Lucius burned a path through the spider corpses to clear a way for the centaur foals to move, and Severus magically "shovelled" the corpses down into the spider burrows, effectively plugging the entrances— at least for the moment.

There was a _**scree**_ from above, and Hermione sensed it an instant before she saw it. One last determined spider had decided that taking her out was more important than fleeing. Whether it was motivated by hunger or insanity, she'd never know, because her walking cane snapped backwards as she thrust it deep into the spider's cephalothorax and deep into its brain.

The cane hummed with fury as the spider's body suddenly exploded, shreds of legs and random green bits flying everywhere. The colour faded as the life in them faded—from the green of life to the dull black of death. Hermione stilled, trembling slightly, torn between fright and incoherent babbling about horrible things that she could never _un_ see.

 _At least you didn't see it in three-dimensional colour?_ She thought to herself. _Thanks for that, at least._

"Hermione! Are you okay?" Minerva called out as the trio rushed up to her. No less than seven young foals stuck to the adults like glue, nickering and pressing up close for comfort.

Hermione slid off Daemon's neck and found herself around Lucius' neck. "I'm sorry about your cane, Lucius," Hermione apologised.

"Witchling, you impaled a giant spider with it and caused it to blow up," Lucius laughed. "Believe me, you are forgiven."

Hermione smiled, using her hands to feel for Lucius' face to test whether his face was really smiling.

Severus tapped her eye cover. "Are you well?"

Hermione nodded. "My eyes hurt in the sun."

Severus touched her hands and squeezed them so she knew he was there, and she smiled at him.

Daemon growled, his voice low and powerful. The ground shook as he did so, and they all gathered under his legs: foals, adult, and witchling combined.

"Halt, strangers from Hogwarts," a voice boomed. "You are not welcome in this place."

Foals poked their heads up from between Daemon's legs and bolted up the path, squealing in sheer excitement.

"These are the missing foals, Magorian," a voice said.

"They slipped away from their dams during the early morning siesta," another said.

"Bluebell, Thunderbolt, Leafhopper— Dapples, Sixfeet, Cloudburst—"

A little filly whinnied loudly, directly into his face.

"Yes, Raindancer, we see you too," another voice said.

All of the foals were chattering at once, sounding very excited and trying to share everything that happened at exactly the same time.

"Lay down your weapons, brothers," Magorian said stepping into the light. "We stand before the ones who saved our foals from certain death. They are, from this day forward, herd-friends forevermore until the stars themselves burn out."

Excited nickers spread between the gathered centaurs.

Magorian stood in front, walking down the path of blackened and charred spider corpses. "Come, we would prefer to parlay away from this place that eats our foals. Will you honour us with your presence that our peoples may come to know each other better?"

Hermione, who climbed up on Daemon's head like an elephant's mahout, peered up at Magorian curiously. She waved her head back and forth like a cobra and the flute— taking in his energy, the imprint of his temperature, and the thrum of his lifeforce. The centaur slowly extended his fingers to her. Hermione, whose hands were barely large enough to wrap around his fingers, took his hand and squeezed it.

"Human filly, can you not see?" Magorian asked.

"Not like normal people can," Hermione replied honestly.

"Our farseer would say that this makes you see the furthest and the clearest in times of need," Magorian said, placing his other hand on hers. "Will you join us?"

"I will," Hermione said earnestly, "but mother has to say it's okay," she added, pointing down below to where Minerva was trying to add two and two together and coming up with one hundred and forty-seven point six.

Magorian laughed and snorted. "My apologies for the rudeness earlier, my human friends. We had been searching for our missing foals, and when they are missing, we assume many things. I fear I tend to assume the worst when humans show up in our forest shortly after this happens. I am Magorian, leader of the Dark Forest Herd. I greet you as herd-friends for your saving our endangered foals from a blight upon this forest that we have never been able to drive away."

"Minerva McGonagall," Minerva said with a slight bow. "This is my daughter, Hermione."

Magorian smiled, taking her arm to clasp it.

"Lucius Malfoy," Lucius said with a politely bowed head. They, too, clasped arms.

"Severus Snape," Severus answered, lowering his gaze as he bowed respectfully. "I do not know how long the plugs will last. The spiders will eventually escape again."

Magorian shook his mane and sighed, taking Snape's arm as well. "They do not belong in our woods," Magorian said after a while. "Long my father and his father— never have they had such a thing in the history of these woods. Yet, now, our foals must face such dangers on top of finding that their territories are no longer just for them. They have giant spiders, lost and drunken trespassers, and other animal rescues that the half-giant dumps within the forest to 'set them free.' Until now, we did not think that this one," Magorian explained as he pointed to Daemon," was even anymore more than one more danger to our foals.

Minerva, Severus, and Lucius turned to stare at Daemon, who was slurping the little filly Rainchaser up one side and down the other. She was giggling happily, reaching up to scratch the ears on his third head. Daemon's back leg was twitching, thumping against the ground.

Slurp.

Slurp.

SLURP!

Each head pegged her squarely with its tongue. The little filly was somewhat drenched, but she giggled the entire time.

Minerva cast her eyes up to Hermione. "I will confess. We, too, were surprised at this."

Hermione paused in the scratching of the giant canine's ears. "Please, can you not hear him?"

Shaken heads answered her.

 _They have to want to,_ Daemon said somewhat sadly, _and trust you as you trust me. The stronger our bond, he faster others will hear me too._

"Oh," Hermione replied, saddened.

"We hear him!" the other foals chimed in, rushing up to pet the giant cerberus' sides, and heads.

Daemon made himself busy snuffling each one over and giving them a bath that practically knocked them over.

Magorian's eyes widened with wonder. "Let us leave this place, my friends. It seems we both have much to learn together."

* * *

"Hagrid set the Acromantula's loose in the woods?" Minerva practically came to pieces as the herd gathered around in a circle.

They had been brought to the middle of their most main encampment— the heart of their fall-camp. Daemon was attracting a lot of foal attention, each wanting the pleasure of joining the others that had befriended him had. The cerberus wuffed lowly, sniffing everyone that passed by thoroughly and memorising their scents.

"First, there was only one," a chestnut centaur with a blaze that went down his face. He had introduced himself as Bane. "But the half-giant— he had to give it a mate. That was when the danger truly started. That was when the creature no longer just hunted and hid from us— it settled and bred."

All three human adults looks horrified, their faces growing paler as the gravity of the situation set in.

"Dumbledore told us to keep the children out of the forest unless we were with them," Snape said grimly. "He never truly told us why. We had presumed, perhaps in error, that was out of respect for your people."

"Foals do not endanger us," Magorian said with a shake of his mane. "Foals are foals, regardless of species. They often think with their sense of adventure before their heads."

The gathered foals all whickered apologetically, and Hermione joined them in looking sheepish. They had all glomped together with Hermione, taking turns guiding her hand to the base of their manes and guiding her around, pressing her hands to "interesting things" that were all over the encampment. They were even teaching her how to make certain centaur sounds by repeating them until she could repeat them back. The centaur mares looked amused— for once their roles were reversed and the child was the teacher.

Each foal was adamant about Hermione learning "their" dam, and Hermione had literally felt the faces, ears, and bodies of each mare with her searching fingers until she knew every scar, softness, and notch in the ear as clear as a visual. Minerva watched with interest, but she had long since relaxed. The centaurs were not as she had been told. The centaurs seemed to think that the three of them were not as they had believed humans were once grown.

As the day went on, the adults had all bonded quite closely, and the foals of both species were gathered around their own fire, smoking their own fish and teaching Hermione how to roast a squirrel properly after preparing the skin to make a protective pouch for her "special magic."

Each of the foals had given her something small to place in her bag to start her off. River stones to fill the eyes, petrified stems to make the pull clasp, herbs to line the bottom, and small bones to symbolise respect for animals of the air, land, and water— all of it went into the bag. And what fascinated Hermione the most was that they knew a silent spell that expanded the inside of the bag to be deceptively roomy. Vaguely she remembered that the older students mentioned they wanted to charm their bags to do something of the sort, but she couldn't remember what the charm was. They had often complained it was too complex to just add to anything, but the centaur foals scoffed as they showed her how to do it. It was so terribly simple.

Each of the foals gave her hairs from their manes, and she stuffed them in her bag, and she leaned over to allow them to pluck her head for hairs. They all nickered in apology as they plucked, but then they rubbed her head afterwards, causing her eyes to roll back in pleasure and she flopped over. This caused the foals to giggle, and they made up a game on who could get Hermione to flop the fastest by rubbing her head just right. Hermione, of course, was no slouch either, and she found the special places between the ears and just beyond where the centaur could reach on themselves to do exactly the same thing to them.

Hermione seemed to find the peer group she had always wanted in the foals. For once, there was no ostracizing going on. They didn't care she covered her eyes, and, if anything, they seemed even more determined to help her feel her way across their home with her other senses. They all teamed up to brush and comb Daemon after scrubbing him down in the river. The cerberus seemed baffled to be so clean and smelling of herbs, but his tail was wagging happily and he tagged every foal in range with his tongue.

As the sun finally went behind the clouds, Hermione pulled her eye-cover off, sighing with relief as the pain of having her eyes exposed was painful no longer. Each foal gleefully introduced themselves again, guiding her hands over their ears and backs so she could associate the visual with her other senses. Then, it was back to inspecting all of the mares, who tolerantly allowed the process all over again. Finally, when Hermione was about ready to fall over, the mares pulled her in and made her lay down with the other foals for the required siesta. So, while the adults prattled on talking about official and important things, Hermione was passed out with a pile of foals, mares, and one spectacularly clean cerberus.

By the time Hermione awoke from her peer pressure-induced nap, and Hermione had never thought she'd ever have positive peer pressure like that, the adults had seemed to come to an agreement as to the solution, and only one last formality remained.

Magorian stirred a mortar with a strangely bright pigment within. He drew lines across each of the human's faces, mimicking the stars and blazes of his people. They braided part of their hair to mimic the way they tied back their manes, weaving in leather ties, shells, and brightly-coloured fibres. To each adult, they gave a new pouch, but to Hermione, who had just made her own, they gave a small polished black stone that seemed to hold a universe's worth of stars inside.

"From this night forward, with the stars and planets as witnesses, we of the Dark Forest centaur name you our brothers and sisters under the same sky. For you have protected and honoured our foals— so we, too, shall protect and honour you," Magorian said formally. "As all centaur do, they are given a name when come of age, but this time is not as it is in human ways. To come of age is to realise you are a part of the herd, to accept you are responsible for more than yourself, and to know that your heart beats with others. This does not always happen quickly, but when it does is a time of great celebration.

"By whatever name you go by outside, we name you Starfall, for your mane is like the trails of stars," Magorian told Lucius, putting the magical bag around his neck. Blaze your path to the future with us, and light our way in darkness.

"By whatever name you go by outside, we name you Whiskers, for your softness of foot treads as lightly as the wildcat who knows that size is not everything. There is wisdom within you we could speak for many moons and never tire. Share with us your wisdom that we may share ours.

"By whatever name you go by outside, we name you Nightscale, for your eyes are always watching, and your scales are the colour of the deepest night, so our Seer does see you. Share with us your knowledge of tincture and salve, and we, too, shall share our knowledge of earth and grass and how it aids our people.

"And by whatever you name you go by outside, brave foal of Hogwarts, filly of our Whiskers— we name you Sunbright, for you summoned the glory of Helios into the forest, and his magnificence is hidden within your true eyes," Magorian concluded, pressing his lips to each of their foreheads. "Forevermore you are kin to us and friend. You are welcome in our lands for they are you lands. Protect them and protect us, as we shall do the same."

Magorian approached the panting cerberus and drew out the pigment again. He raised the bowl up high and then allowed the canine to sniff it. Then he dipped his thumb into the bowl and drew markings across Daemon's head, under his eyes, and across his flanks. "We name you, Daemon, our herd-friend. Welcome you are in our lands, for you have protected us in protecting our foals, and you continue even when the danger has passed."

The large canine lowered his head, and Magorian gently pressed a kiss to his foreheads, one at a time. Then, the large dog pegged the centaur leader with his tongue, once from each head, causing the foals to giggle and Daemon's tail to wag even faster. Even Bane, who had remained perfectly stoic and intimidating for the entire ceremony, snorted into his hand in amusement.

Just as the ceremony was done, the air grew colder, and a breeze to match chilled through the forest. Mist gathered, swirling around their feet as the light of the moon seemed as bright as was when full. Shadows and shapes moved in the forest, coagulating as their bumped into each other, and splitting as they moved into other objects. A figure materialised in the moonlight— dark over light— a man, a beast, something in-between both— transforming into the form of a centaur. His masculine frame was set upon the darkest of horse bodies. His skin was as pale as sun-bleached bone, but his mane was a silken black tipped with silvery ends. His face was finely chiseled, strange foreign runes rose from his skin, all all the marking returned to the eyes. His eyes were black starfields, set with a glowing pupil that seemed like planets hung in the vastness of space. As he blinked, the planet would shift— changing from Venus, to Jupiter, to Mars, to Saturn, and beyond.

"Worldeater," whispered some.

"Lord Hades," another whispered.

All the centaur bowed on their front legs, casting their eyes down. Even Minerva, Lucius, and Severus laid themselves low, prostrating themselves in front of the being who so manifested in such a manner. In power, there was no doubt of its presence, and in respect and recognition, the centaurs were more than sure. Even if they did not believe, to disrespect their beliefs would have been a great insult.

Hermione's face lit up like the sun, joy filling her face with undoubtable adoration, and she ran forward despite the gasps and hands trying to hold her back. Fawkes few to alight upon his shoulder, and Sithiss rose up around him, wrapping around his legs in a figure eight. Sithiss closed her eyes, but she lay her head on Death's unoccupied opposite shoulder.

The tall centaur grasped her in his arms as she jumped up to greet him. He hugged her close, his eyes shining with the glow of the planets. "I see you have picked your champions, dear child," he rumbled lowly. "I approve of them. Shall we give them the mark of our favour that shall never worry that your gaze never harms those you love?"

Hermione shook her head rapidly up and down. "Yes, Lord Father."

Silver hooves, glistening as though made of pieces of the moon, rose up as he reared up and he slammed them down to the ground with a clarion bell-like tone that thrummed in the air.

"People of the Forest and Centaur of the Dark Forest, lend me your ears," Death purred, his voice like velvet sliding across velvet. "The daughter of my heart has made her choice of home and chosen. From this day forth, I grant you my mark. All that bear it shall be immune to to her true gaze— the gaze of _my_ chosen— that you may live in peace and harmony and without fear. Teach her, my youngest, of your ways and your magic, and she will protect you when times are dark and your vision clouded. From now until the end, your people shall bear this mark as covenant to her and to me. If broken, and intentional harm should come to her, the mark will fade that all may know of your treachery.

"This is my promise," he continued.

"This I do swear," he said, rising up again into a rear, and he slammed his front hooves down to the earth once more.

 _ **CLANG!**_

Death walked forward. "Raise your heads, People of the Forest. Open your eyes again and see. Gather round, and I shall tell you a story— a story with an end and a beginning. I shall tell you of one of the first betrayals between friends. Gather close, and listen to the stories only the stars and eldest gods remember."

* * *

 _The Lands of Death were not all barren and grey, but once, they were lush and green and as fertile as they were dangerous or peaceful. None were more dangerous than the Outer Rim of His domain, for that was what separated the living from the dead._

 _It was said that if the living were to come to the land of the dead they would never wish to leave, and there were often the dead who wanted no more than to return to the living._

 _Death, who did not wish for any who did not want to, sent out for those who would be willing to devote themselves to His service in protection of the Outer Rim. All times before, he had summoned for protection of the beings within the deeper areas, but the Outer Rim called for a different sort of guardian: ones that struck fear in both living and the dead. He desired those to help guard that which had been branded the Underworld from those who were not dead. Only three species answered Death's Call to Arms: the loyal cerberi, the royalty of all serpents : the basilisks, and the arachnid families._

 _To the innermost ring, the noble cerberus and all his kin guarded the first challenge any who died would face in trying to pass back into the lands of the living. To the middle-lands, cloaked in perpetual darkness of the hidden moon, he set the basilisks, giving them vision that could pierce the darkest of darkness but at the cost that all who were not of Death's chosen would be frozen in place forever unless the touch of Death released them._

 _To the outermost rim of his domain, he loosed the arachnids, and they spun their webs, made their trapdoors, and settled both in and out of the water. Their webs acted as the first and last sensory net for those who dared to come or go without Death's blessing._

 _Many lifetimes came and went in the word above, and all were at peace. The borders were strong, and so the dead and the living did not mingle. Long this peace lasted, but it was not forever. Eventually, the people above grew restless, and they believed that the forbidden was only different words for power that was hidden._

 _Three brothers, masters of Dark magic, ruled over all they had managed to conquer with their might and magic. Even that had not been enough for them. They then set off to challenge Death himself and steal his power, vowing to never to bow to any being, whether it be god or power. So confident in their reign of terror, they left together._

 _When they reached the borders of Death's domain, they noticed that the largest spiders were far above, casting their webs across sky and tree, and perhaps to the very mountains themselves. The brothers, however, were cunning, and they avoided the silken strands by summoning a mist to reveal the silken webs to normal eyes. As they went in further, they recognised the trip wire silks of the trapdoor spiders, and they stepped over them. Then, once they were passed, they set the holes on fire with their magic, roasting the spiders in their own holes._

 _They continued on their journey, and they noticed in the sunniest spots, strangely high, dark brown, almost furry looking spiders with distinctive pale bands across the legs. These spiders seemed to notice them, but they were gathered around a glistening, fresh egg that put the largest egg of the human word to shame. The large spider covered the egg lovingly with its body, egg legs gently moving and making sure it was rotated, and then, when the temperature got too hot, the spider would stand high, shading it with its body from the sun. The spider was enormous, and it's multiple eyes stared at the three brothers. Yet, even as it knew they were there, it did not leave the egg._

 _The three brothers hid themselves as the ground began to rumble, and a pair of giant serpents slithered in. Their heads reached towards the tops of the trees, or so the brothers believed, and they quaked in their boots and didn't move._

 _Expecting a fight, the brothers waited, but the serpents loosed a large lizard. The spider struck, dragging the body up to the egg and began to devour it. The serpents coiled around the egg and spider, hissing, rubbing, and flicking their tongues. Then, the second serpent dropped another offering— this time an overgrown locust that greatly resembled the size of a small pony— and the spider struck again, happily feasting on the food they brought._

 _The brothers watched the giant serpents leave and decided that it was best to leave the egg alone. It was after this, the three brothers came across a smaller type of ground-roaming spider that looked very much like a larger sort of tarantula from the world above. The spiders skittered as if outcast to the outside of the land of spiders, avoiding the other spiders' hunting grounds._

" _Perhaps, brothers," the eldest brother said. "Perhaps, we need allies."_

" _These allies would be weak," the second brother scoffed. "Even their allies shun them to the outside."_

" _Hrm," the third brother said, tapping his wand to his nose. "We can make our allies as we will."_

 _The other brothers turned to stare at him._

" _They say the unborn life bestows the greatest power because of the potential of what could have been," the third brother said with a knowing smile. "We could use this to our advantage."_

" _Oh, ho! What do you have in mind?" the first brother asked._

" _Find what they want more than anything," the third said, drumming his fingers together, "then make them into our vehicle for success."_

 _The other brothers smiled in agreement._

 _Days passed, and the brothers tinkered— weaving their Dark arts into the spiders to give them rudimentary intelligence so communication was possible._

" _Free! We wish to leave!" the spiders clacked. "Set us loose upon the world and let us feed there. Do this and we shall aid you to pass into the lands of the dead by distracting the others."_

 _The three brothers did heartily agree._

 _The first order of business was the covenant of power— their contract— and the brothers were very experienced in such things. They backtracked to the egg they had seen guarded by a spider. They teamed up on the spider, slaying it, and took the guarded egg. Dragging the carcass of the guardian with them, they threw it to their new allies, and wove the Dark around the unborn egg, turning it into the vessel for their new allies' power._

 _The unborn egg screamed and writhed within, warping with the power forced into it. The small serpent within trashed under the shell, its mental anguish turning to hatred and rage._

" _Perfect, brothers," the first brother approved. "Let our new allies feast."_

 _They cast the engorged egg into the carpet of moving spiders, and they descended upon the egg in all haste. The sound of cracking, trickling, and chittering mandibles filled the air. The spiders grew, and grew, and grew. They feasted on the seemingly boundless energy of the perverted potential, making it theirs._

 _And so, in this darkness, the Acromantula was born._

 _The three brothers set their newly-improved allies off to distract the other spiders, no longer restrained by the great difference in size. While the other spiders were larger, the Acromantulas were legion, and they spilt over the hills and swallowed up their "enemies"._

 _As promised, they carved the way for the brothers to pass into the lands beyond, and the basilisks had moved into the outer rims, desperate to save their eggs from the ravenous Acromantulas. Guardian after guardian of the eggs went down under the tide of legs and mandibles, and the gaze that was useful in service of Death did not work on their supposed brethren in protecting the borders of the Underworld. Waves of Acromantula surged into the inner boundaries, and they sacrificed themselves to distract the cerberi in order for the brothers to pass._

 _The brothers did make their way to the chasm— the final barrier between the lands of the living and the dead. Dark water swirled below, and the brother knew it was the meeting of great rivers Styx, Phlegethon, Cheron, Lethe, and Cocytus. The rivers merged together into a vast and blackened marsh that fed its nutrients into the land above, sharing its fertile loam to the surrounding lands. They knew to end up in the churning water below would be their end— if not their life but their memories. All would be wiped away by the waters of Lethe, which was the land's first defense to keep the dead from remembering the lives they left behind._

 _The brothers crafted a bridge made up of vines, mud, stone, logs, and magic, spanning it across the vast chasm. They knew they would succeed. They knew victory was within their grasp. They would enter the land of the dead without having died—_

 _Ultimate power over death itself would be their reward. They would bring back the forbidden secrets of life over death to the waking word above. People would kiss their feet and swear themselves to their service._

 _Darkness swarmed around the middle of the constructed bridge. Mist swirled as voices whispered. Creaks of ancient trees met the sound of moving bones. Bones extended from where flesh and bone should have been. A skull-face stared out from the dark of wispy robes._

" _Brothers of the mortal world above," Death's low, velvet voice rumbled. "What brings ye to my domain— brazen and fearless?"_

" _Oh, Death!" the first brother cooed. "We are here to visit your grand domain, for we have long heard of its splendor."_

 _The bleached skull turned to stare into the first of the three brothers. Elongated finger bones traced the edge of his jawbone._

" _You came without invitation," Death answered. "What sort of host would I be without even the most late of warnings?"_

" _Most gracious Death," the second brother replied. "We bear you no ill will, but wish to see the splendor of your domain that we might take reassurance back to the world above. Allow us to see the lands beyond, and we shall leave in peace."_

 _Death's eyes glowed— a bright, white flame-like glow set in dark sockets. "If I were to allow you this, I must, as a good host, warn you that nothing must leave my domain that began here, for it would curse your lines eternal beyond your mortal understanding."_

" _Oh, most merciful Death," the third brother said. "All we wish is to see the truth with our own eyes that we might take this to reassure our people who fear what becomes of them and their loved ones when you come to bring them to this place of eternal repose."_

" _Yes, yes," Death answered, drumming his finger bones together. "So you are here on a quest for knowledge to bring succor to your greatly beloved people?"_

" _Of course," the first brother soothed._

 _Death's smoldering eyes flickered as he watched the brothers confidently pluck and eat the fruits from the still-growing vines that made up the bridge. "Tell me, then, my," Death's voice grew quiet, "...friends. Tell me why such benevolent ambassadors from the world above would bring foul Dark magic into my domain, murder the unborn of my most loyal guard, and twist the very nature of a species to the end of bending them to your will?"_

 _The three brothers took a simultaneous step back, seemingly realising that pulling the wool over Death's eyes was not like deceiving their fellow men in the oft credulous human world. "Three boons from you, oh Death," the third brother demanded. "Three things we would have of you in exchange for what you desire."_

 _Death narrowed his eyes, the glow in his eyes dimming. "What would three mortal wizards have that I desire?"_

 _Each wizard drew out a small pebble from their robes and tapped it with their wands. The pebbles enlarged into a distinctively iridescent green egg. Glossy black scale-shaped spots covered the entire surface of the shell, which gave off a faint scent similar to that of tea leaves and bergamot._

 _Death's posture straightened. His eyes smoldered with undeniable displeasure. "What do you want in exchange for these eggs?"_

 _The first brother stood forward. "Give me a wand— the greatest and most powerful in all the world. A wand that can never be beaten."_

 _Death did break a branch off from the bridge's formed trees, crafted the wand, and handed it to the first brother. The first brother snatched the wand away, tossing the egg at Death._

 _The second brother stood forward, wishing for both power and humiliation upon Death. "I wish for the power to recall loved ones from the grave."_

 _Death did pluck a stone from the churning waters below and passed it to the second wizard. The second brother clutched the stone tightly, tossing the second egg to Death._

 _The third brother stepped forward. "I wish to remain concealed from all eyes that may be looking for me," he stated. "Both from the living and the dead— the insignificant or the divine."_

 _Death was silent, but he drew his talon-like finger across his cloak and cut off a piece, fashioning it into a second cloak. The third brother put it on, promptly disappearing from sight. One egg went flying through the air, barely caught by Death before it smashed to bits on the ground._

 _The three brothers smirked with smug satisfaction, taking their prizes from Death. "Now we will leave you, Death, but before you think us vulnerable, we still hold one egg, which we will release only once we successfully leave your lands."_

 _Death's voice was venom and honey merged together. "What you take from the Domain of Death, mortals, will mark you and your lines forever. That which was created here was never meant to walk between the worlds. Return to me my items and the last egg, and I swear to you I will let you leave unharmed and unpursued. Take with you what stories you wish." Death gestured, and a glowing portal opened behind them— the world above beckoned beyond._

 _The three brothers stepped into the portal into the world beyond, disappearing— taking with them everything. Once they reached the world above, they drew out the egg sac of the Acromantula and turned it loose in the forest. They corrupted the last egg with power, giving it to the Acromantulas as the last payment for their covenant, and the spiders did devour it— growing even larger, the likes of which humankind had never before seen._

 _The three brothers parted ways, never to be rejoined, for they were all cunning, but they were also all mistrusting of each other. Each set off unto a different path; each were determined to avoid Death forever._

 _The brother sought out a wizard he had been quarrelling with for far too long. Forcing the other man into a duel, he dominated the fight, boasting that he was much too powerful to be beaten. Many tried, but he remained undefeated. Finally, he settled down with a great beauty of a wife, hand-picked from hundreds of sycophants, and they had a child. Then, when all the challengers to his power finally died off, his nearly-grown son stole his wand while he was sleeping and slit his throat to ensure he would never be forced to give it up._

 _The second brother used the stone, turning it over twice in his hand, and summoned the love of his life— his beautiful Leah, she who had died tragically long before his trip to the domain of Death. He married her and they had a single child, a son, but their joy was very short-lived. Within a year of his son's birth, his wife died— murdered by some random madman, leaving him with only his son for comfort. He then slowly went mad, only to be killed himself when he convinced himself that another wizard's lady was his own dead wife and tried to steal her away in the night._

 _Chased relentlessly by his own people rather than Death, he bestowed his family ring to his son and fled into the night. Only the mobs dragged his carcass back, having dealt out justice in their own way, and Death did then claim the second brother._

 _The third brother lived his life on the run, forever fearful that should he take off his cloak, Death would then find him at last. He finally took himself a wife, who died in childbirth after giving him a son. The boy grew to become every bit as avaricious as his father before him. One day, the father became conscious of the fact that he was no longer alive, but not precisely dead either. He was trapped in a miserable existence, a cursed half-life because his son had stolen his precious cloak and then left him for Death to claim at long last. Only Death was no longer interested in him— for he had wasted his entire life so very determined to avoid his grasp. Death chose to leave him, alone and caught forever in-between worlds, doomed to haunt the lands where neither the living or the dead existed._

 _It is said that, even now, long after the time of the original three brothers, all those who carry the weight of the Deathly Hallows are doomed to suffer the mighty curse of any who dares to take from the lands of the dead. But, because curse spanned far beyond the scope of one man's avarice, the entire line was made to carry the brunt of three brothers' selfish manipulation of Death._

 _It is said that all those that descended from the three brothers were doomed to suffer the effects of the curse Death had warned them about. For a mortal to take that which was created in the domain of Death was to bring death into their very lines. Premature death, tragedy, sickness, madness, weakness, and infertility would follow each line until the lines themselves flickered and finally went out. Each line, once contaminated, would be doomed to fall, lest they regain forgiveness from the lines of Death, and Death, it is said, has a very long memory, indeed._

* * *

As Death finished his story, four basilisks rose up before him, their scaled heads bowed in respect. Death pulled each serpentine head towards him, pressing his bony fingers to their cranial ridges. As each submitted, the colour from those spots grew pale, drained of colour, leaving a line of pearlescent scale-like marks. Death pressed his mouth to each. "You and your lines are forgiven. For just as the basilisk once trusted the spider, so shall I entrust you with my beloved. As long as the peace remains between you, so, too, shall your families. Together, may you flourish in life until the time I bring you Home. This is my promise. This is my covenant. If harm should come upon her, the mark of my favour be lifted to the transgressor, and may her fangs strike true and deep. For if they do not, my wrath shall be a score times worse."

Death tenderly took each foal into his embrace, pressing his bony fingers to their temples as he pressed his mouth to their forehead. A single bright anemone flower bloomed in their manes, growing behind their ear— brightest white of the silvery moon splashed with the crimson of blood on their petals. He released them gently before repeated the gesture for each centaur.

Magorian, who stared up into the glowing eyes of the gathered Basilisks, raised his bowl of pigment to each. Each lowered their head once more, and he drew the pigment across their heads, calling them by their herd-names once again.

"One last gift— this from my daughter to you," Death purred. He gently pressed up under Hermione's jaw and she opened her mouth. He ran one bony finger across her upper and lower jaw.

 _tick. tickTCK. TckTCKtick. TCKtickTCHtchTICK!_

One by one, ivory fangs neatly dropped to the ground only to be immediately replaced by the row behind them. Hermione hissed pleasantly, rubbing her head against Death's hands.

Magorian and the other centaur elders stared at the offering of basilisk fangs—perfect daggers that would be rendered even more usable with a little handcrafted love. The centaurs dropped their forelegs and bowed, arms spread to their sides in a gallant bow.

Death rose up and reared, the moonlight blocked by the span of his seemingly impossibly huge body. "Treat each other well, my children," he said, swinging his forelegs out in salute. "You walk a new and clear path, free of the curses of your ancestors. Be at peace, both within yourselves and with each other, so when I come to bring you home at long last, we shall meet not with fear and trepidation, but with the joy of greeting a long lost friend.

Death arched his hands together over his head where Fawkes hovered above him, and in an explosion of almost unbearable radiance, he was gone. Fawkes perched in the middle of Sithiss' head as Hermione, Minerva, Lucius, and Severus smoothly and quickly transitioned into their human forms for the first time. Their hands touched the small anemone flower behind their ears and wrapped each other in a mutual hug. The centaurs circled around them like the spokes of a wheel, swallowing them up in warmth and a joyous beginning.

* * *

Hermione sat with the foals, dutifully attempting to mimic the movements and directions of the elder centaur. The aged mare had a long, silver haired mane that draped down her back. Her dappled white coat was flecked with darker grey markings. She had started the lesson with proper mane and tail care, teaching them how to dig the proper roots and squeeze them for their juices, then she taught them how to combine it with rendered tallow to make a tonic for their mane and tail to rid themselves of tangles and snares without a fuss.

Hermione had fully rejoiced in that particular lesson, at is seemed her hair was indeed a mane and not just a head of bushy human hair. The foals helped her pull it back, taught her how to tame it with carved sticks, and then put bird-shaped ornaments to set in her curls.

Now, however, the lesson was practical and important in the extreme. They sat together, learning how to craft a hilt for their personal dagger, set the fang into the hilt and set it, and then carve the intricate marks into the metal while it was soft enough to do so. She taught them how to work the skins into a consistency so soft that it felt like silk, and then they wrapped each hilt to make it comfortable to wear and grip.

"I had no idea that the elder mares taught the crafting of one's personal knife," Severus commented. "I mean no offence."

Bane shook his mane. "The stallions master the bow for hunting and to protect the herd, but it is the mares who craft the arrowheads and the knives. They sharpen the edges to flesh the skins. They insure our knives never fail us on the hunt. The oldest mares know where all the special plants are in the forest and when to pick them. The oldest stallions know where all the prey hides and roams throughout the year. Together we are strong."

"Once the young ones are done, it will be our turn to craft our fang-knife," Magorian said with a chuckle. "The foals are given this task first to learn the importance both in learning and before their attention span wanders away to the stars."

Lucius snorted politely. "Foals and children. They truly are one and the same."

Firenze was examining the large fang in his hand with no small amount of wonder. "If it was not in front of me, I would say I imagined the entire thing. To hear the voice of Lord Hades himself is a thing we could only imagine until now."

Minerva shivered. "I had no idea that my daughter had a bond to _him—_ not so intimately. And yet it explains so much. She told us all, but, until we saw him, did any of us really believe it? Miracles happened down in that chamber below Hogwarts. We knew that. This feels so much more than a miracle."

Firenze stomped one hoof. "We often say that the star burns brightly long after the light has gone out, Whiskers," he said kindly. "Perhaps, Lord Hades knew that you were not ready, just yet, to embrace the full story. Here, however, amongst friends also newly embraced, it was time."

"You confuse our new friends with speech such as that, Firenze," Magorian chuckled. "It is a gift we all were given, and he gave it us together. To have friends such as these is a gift beyond measure, and we shall honour it till our herd is but a memory."

The other centaur snorted in agreement, tossing their heads.

The foals, including Hermione, ran up to show the centaur elders their new knives, and Magorian led them over to the large fire. He lit a bundle of herbs and wafted the smoke over each knife before putting the neck-sheaths over their heads.

"We are one in our covenant with Lord Hades" Magorian said. "Honour it well, my foals, for a people without honour are no people at all. All we are then are beasts."

All of the foals nickered and nodded, and Hermione looked up to Magorian with no little wonder.

The elder centaur gently placed his fingers to the line of pale dots along her hairline— barely visible to those who did now know what they were looking for. "Why don't you take Sunbright with you to the river and teach her how a real centaur catches fish?"

The foals whinnied excitedly and tossed their heads, dragging Hermione with them with joyful enthusiasm. Hermione shot Minerva a desperate look, begging for permission even as she was being dragged away.

Minerva laughed and nodded to her, giving her belated permission.

"Come," Magorian chuckled as he guided the wizards and witch to sit down with the rest of the herd. "Time for us to work on what the foals have already mastered."

And with that, the adults settled in to do their own bit of learning together.


	4. To Walk the Path Between the Waves

A/N: *eyedarts*

Beta Love: The Dragon and the Rose, Dutchgirl01, Commander Shepard

 **Kiss of the Basilisk**

 **Chapter 4**

 **To Walk the Path Between the Waves**

 _See, I have set before you this day life and good, death and evil… I have set before you life and death, blessing and curse; therefore, choose life. - Moses_

"It's not right, Headmaster," Hagrid bemoaned. "He's _my_ dog."

Albus stroked his beard. "Well, that's easy enough to prove, Hagrid," the elder wizard told him. "The officials are here to ascertain the the strength of the bond. If your bond with— Fluffy— is as strong as you say, then they will see it."

Hagrid puffed out his chest. "Well, o' course he'll come to me, sir. He's my dog!"

Albus shook his head. "If you had followed my directions before and taken the test long ago, this would not even be an issue, Rubeus. I have warned you before about not registering your foundlings even though Fluffy _did_ serve an official function here at Hogwarts.

"Dogs don't need to be registered, Headmaster," Hagrid scoffed. "I dun need no tag to tell me he's my dog. I fed him ever since he was a wee pup."

Dumbledore popped a lemon drop into his mouth. "Perhaps, Hagrid, but you know as well as I that magical creatures have a way of forming familiar bonds with whomever they choose, not the other way around. I've been with Fawkes for many decades, and while he knows me well, I cannot claim that he does more than stay by me by choice rather than share his thoughts with me."

Hagrid shook his head. "No! Fluffy is _my_ dog. There's a difference, ya see? He's a dog, not some magical phoenix!"

Dumbledore sighed. "Just attend the testing, Rubeus," Albus said finally.

"Right," Hagrid answered, straightening his shoulders. "I'll show 'em whose dog he is."

* * *

Hermione stood nervously at the side of the Dark Forest, finding that she'd rather have been in it than standing at the border, but they had yet to reveal their increased bond to the centaur to the Headmaster.

Rainchaser nickered encouragement from the forest, sneaking into the shaded area and placing her hand in hers, and Hermione smiled as she felt the little filly's warmth. Of all the foals, she had been the most brave, but her dam was nearby too. She could hear her soft whickers reminding the little filly that while Hermione and Daemon were "safe" that running out onto the green near strangers was not.

Her mother was speaking with the officials for the test, and Severus was standing nearby, his arms crossed and his face twisted with a distinctive disdain. It was a face he wore often, and the gathering of officials seemed to bring out the "best" in his demeanour.

Daemon sat down with his bulk blocking off the little filly from being seen, and Rainchaser was happily lying down between them, petting Hermione's hands and providing moral support. Daemon too, wasn't about to let Hermione fret overly much, and he pinned the witchling down with one paw, dragged her over to his side, and gave her a good series of therapeutic slurps.

Hermione giggled, giving the overgrown canine ear scritches and pats. His vision blended with hers, and she saw the officials approaching. Rainchaser squeezed her hand before dashing back into the forest to her concerned dam, and Hermione couldn't help but feel a little more alone without her filly's comforting presence nearby. Still, Daemon was there, but a part of her fell into thinking that once Mr Hagrid reaffirmed that Daemon was, in fact, _his_ dog, that she wouldn't be able to be with him anymore. The thought frightened her, for in a very short time Daemon had taken his place alongside her other cherished ones— places of safety in a world that threatened to see her as being too different to be "normal."

"Hello there, little lass," a kindly-looking older wizard greeted her. His aura was green and soothing, and Hermione immediately took a liking to the older man. "Are you ready?"

Rainchaser dove for the safety of the forest without being seen, nickering encouragement.

Hermione nodded, the small metal ornaments on her eye-cover tinkling softly as she moved.

"You can take ma' arm, lass," the wizard suggested. "I promise I won't bite."

Hermione smiled nervously, but she put her arm around his, allowing him to guide her to where she needed to be. She used her free hand to pat Daemon gently, feeling the tug to remain with him, but knowing the test was necessary to someone in order to let Daemon be with her and share quarters with them. From what the elder lady had explained before they had come out, familiars had different rights than pets. Familiars were allowed to go places others could not, much like service animals in the Muggle world. Registering them gave them many benefits, including glamour collars that allowed the more unusual (see three-headed) animals to appear more mundane in Muggle areas. She had seemed convinced that, if Hermione passed all the tests, they could even alter the collar to make Daemon a bit less gargantuan in general when he wasn't on guard duty, allowing her to take him in even more places without panicking the crowds.

Hermione picked up softly spoken language that she didn't know coming from the gathered people nearby, and she wondered what they were discussing so avidly.

"Okay, Mr Hagrid," a voice called from the gathered. "You said you purchased this cerberus from a Greek chappie at a place called— the Leaky Cauldron?"

"Aye, I did," Hagrid said, puffing up proudly.

"And you _do_ have the original bill of sale, yes?" another voice asked.

"Well, er I— no, sir," Hagrid said. "We shook on it like civilised blokes."

"And how much did you pay for—"

"Fluffy, sir," Hagrid announced.

"How much did you pay for… ah, Fluffy?"

"100 galleons, sir," Hagrid replied.

There was the sound of scribbling in the silence.

"Okay, Mr Hagrid," the first official said. "We have set up an obstacle course and some fetching targets. You may begin as soon as Miss McGonagall is not facing the course."

"This ain't even necessary," Hagrid protested. "This is _my_ dog, he is. Just ask anyone."

"Mr Hagrid," another official interrupted. "This is not about ownership but a test of the strength of and type of bond you share with the cerberus in question. If the familiar bond is confirmed, the animal is bound to her. We will confirm your previous ownership and arrange for some sort of monetary reimbursement of what you paid for him up to this point. If the bond between you and the cerberus is stronger, then he will be registered to you, and then we will begin the task of ascertaining why you did not registered him to begin with and arrange to take the proper safety tests in regards to his handling."

"I uh… er… oh," Hagrid stammered and stopped. "I guess we'll just get on with the test, ya?"

"Miss McGonagall?" the first official greeted.

"Yes, sir?" she replied.

"How did you happen to run into this cerberus?"

"He, uh, ran into me, actually," Hermione recalled. "I was taking a walk along the Black Lake, and he bowled me over in the grass."

"Had you ever seen this dog before then?"

"No, sir," Hermione answered.

"Did he have a collar or identifying tags that would have led you to believe he belonged to someone else?"

"No, sir," Hermione replied. "Well, he did have a rope around his neck with a frayed end."

The officials muttered to themselves.

"At what point did you begin to believe you were connected to this cerberus, Miss McGonagall?"

Hermione frowned. "I think— probably when he let me see through his eyes, sir."

"Thank you, Miss McGonagall," the official stated. "We will get to your test after Mr Hagrid. If you could please wait in the provided area?"

"Miss McGonagall, if you will follow me. We do not wish to give you an unfair advantage in knowing what the tests are," the elderly wizard said, patting her arm.

Hermione nodded and allowed him to guide her to the side.

Her mother and Severus were waiting for her at the sidelines, and Hermione snuggled between them immediately, worried that she might have said something that displeased the officials. She leaned into her mother for reassurance, but she stole a bit of Severus' robes to cover herself and cuddle into, feeling as though she needed the comfort of both of them to truly feel better. She knew that had there been other students there, her ability to take liberties with Severus' personal space would be dampened, but she took what she could get while she had the opportunity.

There was quite a bit of yelling going on outside of the waiting tent, and the official that had stayed with them was looking out the tent flap with some concern.

"Oh, dear," the elder wizard said. "That doesn't look very good at all."

"Daemon isn't hurt, is he?" Hermione asked worriedly.

"No, child," the wizard reassured. "Daemon is not the one being dragged across the green."

Hermione looked up, and even with her eyes behind the blind, she was obviously concerned by the mental picture she was having.

"Er— 'ere now, Fluffy. You put that there wizard down right now!" they heard through the tent flaps.

Severus let out a low snort of amusement, and Minerva rubbed Hermione's shoulders in comfort.

A while after, they heard something that might have been a flute being played, if said flutist were being dragged across train tracks repeatedly at the same time. There was a crashing sound shortly after, followed by noises indicating something being dragged roughly across the ground, which was followed by some rather ferocious snarling.

Hermione clutched her mother tightly, pressing her nose into Minerva's robes with some concern.

"Yes, well, thank you Mr Hagrid," someone huffed. "I'm not sure that was the most conventional way of fetching all the markers, but you did not miss any, technically. Please call out Miss McGonagall."

Hermione walked out to meet the test somewhat nervously. She preferred to have tests she could study for, and this did _not_ feel like anything you could study for.

"There are twenty-five markers scattered all across the green, Miss McGonagall. Your task is to retrieve them with the canine. The rule is, it must be picked up by the canine, not you, however you can take them from him at any time after he has picked them up and collect them. Any questions?"

"May I examine one, please?" Hermione asked.

"What?"

"The marker," Hermione specified. "May I examine one?"

"Oh, well that isn't against the rules, please hand one to Miss McGonagall," the official agreed.

Hermione felt the marker with her hands. It was pointy on one end and rough along the barrel. It seemed like an obelisk of sorts, but she wasn't really certain. There was no magic in the marker at all, making it utterly impossible for her to track it using that. It did, however, have a very distinct odour of licorice. She felt the air in front of her, stumbling forward slightly until she bumped into Daemon, and the three-headed canine whuffed, snuffling her affectionately.

She held out the marker with her hand, letting all three heads gather the information he needed to find more of them.

 _Easy,_ Daemon wuffed. _These don't even move like prey._

"Why do you smell like cake?" Hermione asked.

 _I may have ploughed into one earlier,_ Daemon confessed.

"Oh," Hermione replied. She handed the marker back to a nearby official.

"Are you ready, miss? You will have thirty minutes to retrieve them."

Hermione nodded. "We are ready."

"Right then," another man said. "Ready? Set? Go!"

Daemon lowered his head for her to climb on, and she climbed on behind his head. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed herself into his soft fur, and he took off.

The first ten markers were easy; the markers were not even hidden. Daemon snapped them up easily and handed them back to Hermione as they ran along. A few required teamwork, and while Daemon was convinced he could jump the span of the "cliff" on his own, Hermione realised it was designed to test teamwork and commands.

"I'll hold the lever," Hermione said. "You can fetch the marker."

 _I could jump this_ , Daemon complained.

"Yes, but that's not teamwork is it?" Hermione admonished.

Daemon whined, pouting a bit, but dashed across the lever-triggered bridge, fetched the marker, and came back to her.

"They are testing our teamwork to see if we have a familiar bond," Hermione speculated as she stood on his head to draw the branch down so Daemon could snatch the marker down from the tree branch.

The other tests were easier, Daemon said, placing the marker in her hands.

"They didn't sound easier," Hermione said, rubbing his ears.

 _Markers were everywhere,_ Daemon elaborated. _They just stuck to me as I ran by._

"That hardly seems fair," Hermione snorted. "Oh well, I suppose they testing us for communication and him for uh— commands?"

 _Hrmph. As if anyone would listen to him._

"That's not nice, Daemon," Hermione spluttered.

 _He didn't leave you guarding a tiny room with nothing but fleas to keep you company either,_ Daemon groused.

Hermione paled. She knew, even from the little time they had been bound, that Daemon wanted to be with his people. To be alone for such a long period of time would be maddening.

 _When I was with my mother,_ Daemon recalled, _we slept in the temple together with the priestesses. We knew everyone who came in and out of the temple. Mum taught us who to ignore and who to growl at. We were never far from those we guarded. She said one day we would have loved ones of our own to guard and tend, and that would be a glorious day. Nothing was better for one of our kind— to find those who loved us that we could love in return._

Hermione felt a warmth spread from herself to Daemon. She felt the same. While her trust for most people was far less than it had been when she was a younger child, she still felt blessed by the ones she had come to care for very much. Her family of cherished ones was growing, and she was happy that she had those who truly believed in her. The ache of losing her parents was easing at last, and she believed that her parents would have approved of her newfound family, even if they would have balked a little at the method with which she was acquiring them.

"Do you miss them?" Hermione asked. "Your siblings? Your mum?"

 _Sometimes,_ Daemon said with a canine mental shrug. _I'm okay now. I have you._

Hermione hugged Daemon's neck tight as they continue to bound towards the next marker. "Whoa, stop," Hermione said suddenly, and Daemon skidded to a halt, almost dislodging Hermione.

Hermione looked across the green. Magic wove in and out across the green: traps.

Daemon waited patiently.

"There is a small path to the left, where magic isn't flowing," Hermione said. "The rest is trapped."

 _Show me,_ the canine requested. _The test seems different than the last time._

Hermione tried to clear her mind and touch Daemon's open channel. There was a surge of warmth, and Daemon began to move a little bit at a time until he was lined up to where he could walk safely. Step by step, they made their way through the "maze" of void zones and snatched the scattered markers that lay beyond. Hermione counted the markers with her fingers. "Twenty-four," she said. "We're missing one."

 _Are you sure?_ Daemon asked, backtracking.

"Positive," Hermione reaffirmed. "I counted thrice. Maybe this isn't about seeing the mark?"

 _Scenting, of course!_ The canine gave her a canine equivalent of a mental facepalm.

"Five minutes left," Hermione said, worried.

Daemon sniffed the air. _Hold on. Tightly now._

Hermione did as she was told, and Daemon tore off across the green, avoiding all the magical "mines" that lay in wait for him. Hermione clung to him tightly, sharing her inner vision with the giant canine as he had once shared his with her. He scented what he wanted, and made a bee-line back towards the gathered gawkers and observers. Daemon was utterly sucked into the thrill of the chase, his sensitive nose intently focused on the scent he was trailing.

Daemon skidded to a halt next to a side tent, his lips curling back from his teeth as drool dripped from his mouth. He snatched the tent between his teeth and shook, and two people came tumbling out. One was the elderly wizard who had escorted Hermione earlier, and one was Rubeus Hagrid.

"Aww, ack! See?" Hagrid crowed. "He knows his daddy."

Daemon growled, snapping Hagrid up by the ankles and dragging him across the green. Each head took a piece of his clothes, and the dog shook Hagrid back and forth like a ragdoll.

Twine, dog treats, garden seeds, healing salve, pieces of jerky, owl nuts, pieces of rope, and a jar of liniment all came tumbling out of his pockets.

"Ack! Stop, you big oaf!" Hagrid grunted, pushing Daemon's muzzle off his ankle and getting up, brushing the dust and dirt off himself. "What's gotten into you?"

"Please, sir," Hermione said, hopping down to nudge Daemon backwards. The large canine responded to her small hands on his muzzle, and he backed up, but his focused gaze remained on Hagrid. "Do you have one of the markers on you?"

"Markers?" Hagrid asked, shaking his head. "Why wud I have one o' those? They were all stuck to him, dey were."

As Hagrid patted the dirt out of his beard, something dislodged. One of the markers tumbled out after having become entangled in his beard. Daemon snapped at it with a loud _**CLACK**_ , his teeth barely centimeters from Hagrid's red face. The dog then dropped the acquired marker into Hermione's hands just as the bell rang from the observation area.

"Time's up! Let's see what you have there, Miss."

Hermione felt a dagger-like gaze upon her, and she shrank back towards Daemon. The huge dog growled lowly, and the oppressive gaze seemed to disappear. She walked over to the official's table and set out the markers they had collected. She looked up with a hopeful smile as Minerva and Severus came up to offer their congratulations for completing the task.

Daemon's tail wagged happily as he snuffled them both.

The group of foreign wizards and witches gestured for Hermione to approach them but she shrank back, unsure of just what they would require of her. One of them, an older witch who seemed so very much like the elder centaur mare from the herd, spread her hands out in a peaceful gesture. "Please, join us a moment? We have some questions, if you would be so kind?"

Hermione looked to Severus and Minerva, and they nodded to her. Slowly she walked up to them, her hand never leaving Daemon's neck. The dog calmly walked beside her, towering over the foreign nationals.

"What is your name again, child?" the woman asked kindly.

"Hermione," Hermione answered.

"Tell us, child," the elder wizard beside the woman asked. His beard was elegantly curled just like she remembered from the old Grecian statuaries. "What is his name?"

"Daemon," Hermione replied.

"Did he tell you this name?"

Hermione shook her head. "He asked me to give him one. It means guardian. I thought it was appropriate."

The group whispered to each other in rapid-fire Greek. Another elder wizard nodded and asked, "Could you demonstrate the basic commands for us?"

Hermione swallowed hard. "I could try."

The elder group smiled at her. "Please do, Hermione."

"Sit, please," the one wizard requested.

Hermione turned and touched Daemon on the muzzle. "Sit for me, please."

The large canine sat, pegging Hermione thrice on the face with his multiple tongues, giving the young witch his undivided attention.

"And lay down, please," the other wizard said, "then roll over."

Hermione used her palm and put it down, signalling it flat.

Daemon immediately laid down.

She turned her hand.

He rolled over.

She signalled stop, her palm out.

He sat up again, panting, his eyes still fixed on Hermione, clearly awaiting her next instruction.

She gently placed her hand on his nose and repeated the action on all three heads. "Stay now, please."

She pulled out her cane and slowly worked her way onto the green. She stood out in the middle of the green and yelled, "Come!"

Daemon promptly tore off across the green and pounced the young witch, nuzzling and licking her mercilessly. She giggled, grasping his heads and petting his ears. She stood slowly, using the dog to help her stand, and she pulled out a small toy duck from her robes. Daemon perked immediately, watching her every move.

She enlarged it with a spell, waved it in front of him, and tossed it towards the officials. Hermione belatedly realised her error when Daemon went tearing off after it— straight towards the gathered officials.

Hermione yelled a quick "Leave it!" and then a quieter "Bring it."

Daemon skidded to a halt, just a few feet away from bowling over the officials like pins on a bowling lane, hopped over them, snatched the toy up, and leapt back over them to return the duck to Hermione. He dropped it gently into her waiting palm.

"Good boy," Hermione praised, pressing her head to his. "Thank you for that."

 _It's fun!_ Daemon commented happily, wagging his tail with enthusiasm. _I like playing with you._

She walked back with Daemon, her hand on his neck as she walked. He stayed beside her, ensuring she did not stumble.

"Thank you, Miss Hermione," the foreign wizards and witch said as she returned. "If you would please release Daemon to Mr Hagrid so he, too, can have his turn."

Hermione patted Daemon gently. "Go play with Mr Hagrid for a while, okay?"

 _Don't want to,_ the dog muttered unhappily.

Hermione tried to be encouraging, but in the back of her mind, she was worried that Hagrid would be named the lawful owner of Daemon, after all.  
"Please. We must be fair."

Daemon's ears drooped, but he did as he was told, returning to where Hagrid awaited for his turn.

Hermione winced, already feeling horrible about making Daemon do something he clearly had no desire to do.

The officials behind her muttered together in Greek again, seeming to take note of the dog's displeasure upon being confronted with the half-giant.

A large grey boarhound lay by the table nearby, panting heavily in the hot sun. Hermione shied away from him, immediately attaching herself to Severus' robes since Minerva was not the closest person for her to cling to. Severus, noticing what had startled her, gently pressed her close to his hip, and she put her arms around his waist for reassurance. If there was some irony in her being fearful of the boarhound when she was perfectly fine with a huge cerberus, no one was saying anything, but the Greek witch who had been so kind to her did not miss the interaction.

"Sit, Fluffy!" Hermione heard from the green. "Sit, now!"

There was the sound of liquid hitting Hagrid's shoes.

Some of the officials wrinkled their noses and scribbled hastily on the parchments.

Snape sat down with her as she tried to remain positive. Despite knowing her bond with the cerberus was true, she still doubted.

"I think we should talk about what will happen when school term resumes, Hermione," Severus said. "I do not wish you to be surprised when our dynamic has to change when fall term starts and other students are about."

"Stay, Fluffy!" Hagrid's voice broke into the conversation. Severus rolled his eyes.

"I won't be able to call you Severus anymore," Hermione said sadly. "In public, I mean." Her lips curved into a mischievous smile. "The no-touching-the-great-dungeon-bat rule."

Severus snorted with amusement, gently ruffling her hair. "That too. You do understand why?"

Hermione nodded. "Appearances."

Snape nodded. "Other students would use it to make your life more difficult. Call you names, perhaps, or accuse you of being something you are not. I do not wish that for you. Do you understand?"

Hermione nodded sadly.

"Minerva will have to be much the same," Snape explained. "She cannot be accused of showing favouritism for her daughter. This protects her as much as you."

Hermione clung a little tighter to Snape's side, but nodded.

"Rest assured," Snape sighed. "You will be free to assault my person as you will when we are not in public." His voice sounded weary, but Hermione perked immediately, radiating contentment.

"You will also have Daemon, I am sure," Severus noted as he watched Hagrid being dragged across the green on his back, his foot caught in the loop of the leash as the cerberus tore off madly after something. "That imbecile can barely take care of himself, let alone all of his so-called 'pets'."

Hermione giggled a little. She frowned after a bit. "Maybe he is like me. Maybe people just don't understand him."

Severus turned his head and looked down at her, his brows furrowing. "No, Hermione. There are are times when the truth, painful as it could be, is just that. If I were to take you to his… hut, you would wonder how he even _breathes_."

Hermione's eyes widened.

Snape sighed. "You must judge a person's worth singularly. There will be times when the majority will say one thing, and the reality will be the opposite. There will be times when you find the reality is quite the equal of rumour. But it is you that must judge this for yourself. Take what you hear as guide of caution, but do not condemn a person solely on the hearsay of others. That is what they did to you, Hermione."

Hermione nodded vigorously. "I will remember what you have said."

Snape's mouth curved upward slightly and he nodded.

"They speak ill of you too," Hermione noted, stroking his arm for comfort, "but I know they are wrong about you."

Severus frowned thoughtfully.

"We are somewhat similar, you and I, I think," Hermione mused. "We are both judged harshly for how we are different, but only a few really know the truth of who we are and what we are capable of."

Snape patted her arm gently. "You see so much more than most of your age, Hermione. While most close their eyes to avoid seeing what they do not wish to see, you close your eyes to see more. People will underestimate you often. That, too, can be used in your favour."

Hermione thunked her head into his arm. "Mum says you're trying to turn me into a Slytherin."

"Hn," Severus commented. "As it should be."

Suddenly, Daemon was right in front of her, and he dropped a very large rawhide bone into her lap. His tail was beating back and forth so fast it was hardly visible.

Automatically, Hermione flung it back across the green, and the cerberus promptly bowled over Hagrid to pursue it.

Hermione winced, burrowing her face into Severus' side sheepishly.

Snape patted her hair. "Miscreant."

Hermione leaned into his side, the soft tinkle of the metal decorations on her eye cover making a soft, relaxing chime.

* * *

"Mr Hagrid, Miss McGonagall," the head official said. "After extensive deliberations, we have decided that there is a most definite bond between you and the cerberus, Daemon. While being responsive to commands of one over another is not a true test of a bond, our honoured Grecian guests, who have been top of their field in studying cerberi behaviour, have been watching you both, testing your reactions to each other, and seeing the sort of energy that flows between you.

"While Mr Hagrid may have purchased the animal, originally, it is obvious that a true bond has formed between the cerberus and Miss McGonagall that is impossible to ignore— a symbiosis if you will— which the Grecian authorities call δεσμός or _desmós:_ the bond. Such a bond cannot be faked, and it is the only such thing that allows the animal to be ported out of its native Greece legally without extensive paperwork and registration," the first official said.

The second official rose up. "Due to the rarity of the δεσμός, Miss McGonagall will be registered not only in our Ministry's exotic familiar records but also into the records of the official Grecian Cerberi Caretaker list. As she is a student here at Hogwarts, once a week she will be authorised to attend Greek culture, language, and care of the cerberi from the masters in Greece until she tests out as an A or better. This will be essential in both diplomacy and skill, as all of those who are entered on the list may be called upon to deal with incidents or rescues involving Cerberi. All pups are raised learning Greek commands, and this distinguishes between our legal pups and most of those who are bred in the illegal trade. All of those who live intimately with Miss McGonagall are authorised to attend and test as well, as living with a cerberus is often like raising a child. It takes a village."

The third official stood up. "In regards to monetary reimbursement for Mr Hagrid. We would normally agree that payments toward the original price paid for the pup, which in the case would be one hundred galleons. However, since Mr Hagrid purchased a pup that was stolen from Greece and then failed to register the animal in a timely manner, which resulted in said pup bonding to Miss McGonagall. We have decided to forego the fines for illegal cerberi trafficking and failure to register the animal in question, and will subtract that amount from the price we would request Miss McGonagall to pay as fair compensation to Mr Hagrid the sum to fifty galleons. This amount can be paid in installments, due to Miss McGonagall's being a minor, with the amount owled to your Ministry's Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. They will record the amount paid and transfer it to Mr Hagrid's personal Gringott's account, so there will be no question of when the full amount has been reached."

" _ **This ain't right!"**_ Hagrid wailed. " _ **He's ma dog! I raised 'im! S— Snape! It was you! You gave him something to turn 'im again' me!**_ "

Minerva stood in-between then before Severus could even lift an eyebrow. "Now you see here, Rubeus Hagrid," the Scottish witch growled. "There is a verified _bond_. You heard it yourself. It cannot be faked. I will not have you accusing my daughter of shady dealings when it was your _own_ shady dealings that loosed him on the greens of Hogwarts for her to stumble over in the _first_ place!"

Hagrid shrank back a little at the witch's rising Scottish ire. He hung his shaggy head and wisely remained silent. Then, as Minerva stormed away to speak with one of the other officials, he blurted out, "I'll be taking this to the Headmaster, I will!"

There was the sound of childish giggles as Hermione was simultaneously attacked by three separate tongues. She shoved Daemon's heads away one after another, but the cerberus seemed convinced that the only proper celebration was the kind that involved copious amounts of drool, tickles, and enthusiastic tail wagging.

Hagrid's eyes went wide as he realised that the Headmaster was standing next to the young witch, and she was introducing him, formally, to Daemon. Albus extended one of his lemon drops for Hermione, and it was immediately poached by head number three. Hermione giggled and shoved head number three away.

"Ah, Miss McGonagall," Albus said genially. "Congratulations, my girl, on your most remarkable achievement."

"Thank you, sir," Hermione said, stifling a giggle as Daemon slurped her ear.

"I will presume that you would like to house your familiar within Hogwarts," Albus said with a nod. "I have spent quite a few hours talking with the Grecian dignitaries. They were happy to explain the needs of your very large friend. I have spoken with the Board, and they have authorised an expansion of quarters to better accommodate your large friend. I hope this will be agreeable to you?"

"Yes, sir! Thank you, sir!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Good, good," Dumbledore said, stroking his beard. "I will take care of the paperwork for your weekly floo to Greece. You can use the floo in my office as it is connected to the greater floo network, yes?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes, sir."

"I do hope they were not kidding when they said they could enchant a collar to shrink him down a little," Dumbledore mused. "I'm not sure he'd fit through most of the doors otherwise." Albus winked at Hermione, eyes sparkling, and Hermione grinned up at his, sensing his shiny demeanor even without seeing it.

"Headmaster!" Hagrid protested. "You knaw as good as anyone that he's ma dog!"

" _Was_ your dog, Rubeus," the Headmaster replied. "I warned you many times to register the animal with the proper offices, but you always refused. I even filled out the paperwork myself and sent it to your hut to be signed, but apparently you did not see fit to do so. I am not sure what else I could have done, Hagrid. Even so, if this δεσμός or _desmós_ is as important as I understand, Miss McGonagall would still be in custody of our rather large three-headed friend and you would be paying some considerable fines. The choice was his," Albus said, nodding to Daemon. "That is the way of familiar bonds. And that has always been so."

Hagrid slumped, having lost the last bit of hope he had that someone would intervene on his behalf to get him his dog back. The boarhound that had been dozing nearby came up to snuffle him, and Hagrid shoved him away from himself, clearly annoyed.

The boarhound pushed past him and wandered up to Hermione, but this time Hermione was less nervous. With Daemon nearby, she watched the big hound approach. The wrinkled dog wagged his tail, nose clearly sniffing for interesting scents. Then, as if magnetized, he thunked his head into her thigh.

Hermione startled, but slowly stroked his wrinkled head, all the while keeping her other hand on Daemon. The larger canine lowered his heads and sniffed the smaller dog over. His great breaths caused the fur on the smaller boarhound to rise and ruffle.

"Come on, Fang," Hagrid yelled, turning to leave.

Fang, clearly enjoying the head scritches, wagged his tail and stayed exactly where he was.

Hagrid shook his head, stormed over, tied a rope to the dog's collar, and hauled him off, muttering about how a bad little girl kept stealing his dogs.

"Don't you worry about him, Miss McGonagall," the headmaster said with a deep sigh. "He'll be trying to adopt something newer and more "misunderstood" within the week, and I will probably be trying to find a home for an illegally-obtained dragonet."

Hermione's eyes grew wide.

"He means well, that one," Dumbledore cautioned, "but he forgets he's a half-giant and that the rest of us are but fragile human beings." The headmaster gave a long sigh. "I do not wish to rain on your parade, young McGonagall. Do enjoy your evening."

Hermione nodded silently as the headmaster shambled off, muttering to himself.

 _He smells like lemons,_ Daemon noted, tongue lolling in the middle of a canine grin.

Hermione laughed. "So do you, now."

 _I like lemons,_ Daemon confessed, _and olives._

"Black, purple, or green?" Hermione asked curiously.

 _Yes,_ Daemon answered.

Hermione snorted and patted him lovingly. "You're not allowed to have the garlic-stuffed ones."

Daemon's tail wagged. _Okay. What about the green ones with the red things inside?_

"I suppose those won't hurt," Hermione conceded. "How about the cheese stuffed kind?"

Daemon perked. _I like cheese. I like olives. I must like cheese with olives._

"Superior logic," Hermione said with a grin.

 _I like stinky cheese,_ Daemon confessed, licking his chops.

"Figures," Hermione laughed.

 _Can we have some tonight?_ Daemon asked hopefully. His tail wagged harder.

"Only if you want to sleep in a room far away from me," Hermione said with a sniff worthy of Severus.

 _Aw,_ Daemon pouted. _Tomorrow then? For breakfast?_

Hermione laughed. "I'll see what I can do."

* * *

"Thanks for letting us stay with you, Sirius," Fred and George chimed. "Ever since the entire family came down with the bleeding dragon pox, neither of us want to be anywhere near them, ya?"

Sirius shook his head. "I've never heard of an entire family— or most of one— getting dragon pox. How is that even _possible_? How were you even exposed?"

"No idea," George replied. "I'm blaming Percy. He had that summer job working as an office slave at the Ministry."

"Who all has it?" Sirius asked.

"Ron, Mum, Dad, Percy, Ginny," Fred answered. "Even Charlie and Bill have it. They had to emergency Portkey him in from Egypt. Charlie collapsed in the middle of a dragon's pen. They just got him out in time before one of the dragons killed him."

Sirius gave them a glassy-eyed stare. "That doesn't sound like dragon pox at _all_. If it was, why aren't there hundreds of people coming down with it?"

George stretched and shook his head. "Ron got it first. Mum and Dad were next. Healers are all trying to figure out why Fred and me haven't come down with it, while our entire family seems to have— even the ones overseas. Mum accused us of pranking the entire family, but—"

"We just wouldn't _do_ that," Fred insisted. "Not like this. Prank the family? Sure. Prank the family with dragon pox? No."

"Sounds like a curse, brother," Regulus said as he came into the kitchen. "The old-school kind our family and the Lestranges were always so happy to inflict upon their enemies."

Sirius jolted, then his eyes narrowed in thought. "You're right, brother." He drummed his fingers on the counter. "You have any contact with your distant relatives?"

Fred and George shook their heads.

"Odd that you two aren't affected as well," Regulus mused. "When you curse an entire family, it takes a _lot_ to leave out specific people. My guess would be that whoever cursed the Weasleys felt that you didn't deserve to be affected along with the rest of your immediate family. Somehow, something you said or did made them choose to leave you out of the curse entirely."

"That's odd, brother," Fred said.

"Yeah, normally we're the ones everyone blames for everything," George agreed.

Fred frowned. "We really haven't been doing much at all," he confessed. "Ever since little git-bro went into Mungo's for what he did to Mini-Gonagall, our family has been sort of preoccupied with him."

"How was Ron? Before the dragon pox, that is?" Sirius asked.

The twins shook their heads in disgust. "Absolutely horrid," George said with a grimace. "Hateful to the core. I never— little git-bro has _always_ been trying to be better than everyone, but the stuff that came out of his mouth was beyond foul. Mum fled the room crying hysterically. Dad, he would just sit up at night back at the Burrow and just stare out into the marsh, yeah? Both of them wonder where they went wrong with Ron."

"Not their fault," Sirius said grimly.

"No, that hellish place could find the evil or hate inside you faster than anything," Regulus added. "If you had enough of it, it would seduce you by giving you pleasure just as intense as the pain you caused. It was more insidiously addictive than any illegal drug or potion out there. And all it took was one taste to make you crave it over and over again."

"Worst thing was, at least for us," Sirius said, nodding to Regulus. "Once you were introduced to the pit, you were just food. It never rewarded you. It never rewarded _your_ hate. Oh, and I had a lot of hate for my mother to spare, I can assure you of that. But it didn't want it. You were either the victim or the addict. I think— that is why I survived almost ten years in Azkaban. I was already accustomed to total despair."

Fred and George looked grim. "We've tried to think about what could have caused this pox upon our family, but we just don't know. We've been pranking people since we came out of the womb, so if it _was_ us— well, it would have happened long before now." Fred scratched his head and sighed.

Regulus drank down his entire cup of tea. "We should bring this to Severus," he said after a moment. "He's the one who helped lift the curse on our father."

"What?" Sirius gasped, blinking.

Regulus leveled his gaze with Sirius'. "Our father didn't just sit there in his chair and _let_ us be tortured, brother. I suspected there was something going on shortly after you fled to the Potters. He just let mother burn you off the family tree. He had turned frail, weak even. Since when was our father ever _either_ when we were children?"

Sirius frowned. Gears turned in his head. "I had always assumed—"

"We both did," Regulus said. "We both assumed he gave his beloved wife his blessing to torture us, but he was being tortured too, only in a different way. I didn't realise it until you were gone, and the only one I had to help me was Severus."

Sirius flinched, hanging his head. "I was so busy being angry and sorry for myself, I never even thought that father— _why_ didn't I see it?"

Regulus pointed to the one portrait of Walburga that remained in the kitchen where knives had been embedded into the canvas like darts. "Our dear mother was a real piece of work. She hid our abuse to him, and his abuse to us. Meanwhile, she sat in that chair and gained such pleasure from our suffering. Severus realised he was under a curse tied to the blood. We started putting things in his tea to relieve the symptoms until we finally found out what was affecting him specifically."

"And what was that?" Fred and George asked together.

"Mother," Sirius said grimly. "Once that chair and you are _one_ — horrible things happen around you to those you hate, and no one apparently hated our father quite as much as mother."

"What if," Regulus started to say, "now that the chair is gone, all those that Ronald loved started to suffer since he didn't have that dark connection anymore?"

"Gruesome thoughts, brother," Sirius said with a shudder.

"But _possible_."

"Well, I guess we know now how Ron _really_ feels about us, eh, brother?" Fred said to George.

"Strange that his hate for us actually protected us," George said, shaking his head.

"Dark artefacts possess great power, but if you attempt to foil them, or allow them be foiled after you have formed a solid bond to them, they tend to backfire on you in the most horrible way possible," Regulus said. "Your eldest brother William is a cursebreaker, yes? Perhaps, if he knows this is a curse, he can unravel it from his family members if—"

Fred and George leaned in. " _If?_ "

Sirius and Regulus exchanged glances.

"Father only got better when Mum had someone else to focus on," Regulus said. "And even then, he died shortly after Sirius left and I— was banished."

"Who was that?" asked George.

"Me," Sirius said.

Fred and George seemed conflicted. "What happened after your father died and you were banished?"

"I was in Azkaban, feeding Dementors, and then good ol' Mum died," Sirius said. "Many believed it was from grief. I knew better. When she died, the Dementors fed well off me for a very long time." Sirius sighed. "They loved the taste of my joy that she was finally dead."

* * *

"We're _**what?**_ "

Molly let out a chain of horrible coughs as her skin turned a disturbing green and purple. Sparks came out of her nose as her body trembled.

"Cursed," Bill said weakly as he coughed so hard, his breaths became more and more short and laboured.

"It cannot be because of my Ronald!" Molly fretted. "Hasn't enough befallen our family? Why blame him for something like dragon pox when he's been under a healer's care for months!"

"It's because he's being healed!" Bill said, coughing. "It's punishment from that evil place that lingers in his soul, mum. Ancient Egyptians used to use such things to guard their tombs, and it takes a team of us— healthy— just to disarm it so we can walk inside a place."

"No! This isn't because of that horrible place they dismantled! This isn't because of Ronald too! It _can't_ be!" Molly protested, coughing and sparking out her nose.

"He willingly embraced the Dark Magic, mum," Bill said. "The rest of us didn't, and now it's lashing out at any and all of us to punish us for having been in his higher regard."

"Nonsense! Fred and George haven't been affected at all!"

"Ron doesn't exactly love the twins, mum," Bill pointed out.

"Of _**course**_ he does!" Molly wailed. "They're _**family!**_ "

"Love and hate are very closely related," Severus' voice said grimly as he stood there with the healer. They were leaning over a cauldron together as Severus was pointing out specific details on a parchment.

"Just as light and dark are," Cadmus said as he stood up straighter. "It is not so hard to fall into the Dark when you think you are the opposite. People seem to think all Darkness is evil, which it is not always the case, any more than the Light is unfailingly good. Both exist in the world quite naturally, it is only when a choice changes the conditions that it causes real trouble."

Cadmus nodded to Severus as Hermione tugged gently on the healer's sleeve.

The healer smiled, pulling her up into his arms and pointing out something on the parchment. "I have a plan to place young Ronald in magical isolation. If it is indeed because of him that you are suffering so, then this will demonstrably improve your condition by leaps and bounds. If it does not, then you lose nothing, and we must consider that you have a family or an individual that hates you all enough to curse the Weasley line."

"And, if this _is_ the case," Cadmus continued, "then I can work on purging the remains of the Dark that has taken such a hold within your son. You see, Madam Weasley, Darkness is only a taint in beings that were not born to it. It can act like a cancer, growing out of control in the body and in the soul— the same could be said about the light. Humans are rather strange creatures. They are born treading the edge between both sides of the same coin. Neither one nor the other having an advantage, not until the individual makes a choice that gives one side the upper hand. Darkness, however, is very dangerous to the human soul, for it takes root there and seeks out more Darkness with which to sustain itself. Light can be found in the very air, in good deeds, gathered from the love around you, but Darkness you are either born to, or you must perform dark deeds to foster it. This is _why_ it is so dangerous."

"We must work quickly before the Darkness finds something else to latch onto," Cadmus said. "I would recommend you focus all of your thoughts on what you love rather than that which you hate. Otherwise, our attempts to rid you of this affliction may end in failure."

Hermione tugged on his sleeve again, pointing at something.

"Yes, that is precisely it, little sister," Cadmus said kindly.

Hermione beamed, smiling.

Molly, who saw only a blind little girl pointing at seemingly nothing, was understandably rather frustrated. "Why is _**she**_ here, Severus! Why are _**YOU**_ here?!"

Hermione quickly shrank back at her tone, fear causing her to put a near stranglehold on Cadmus. The healer adept frowned, whispering something in her ear in what sounded like soft hisses, and Hermione stopped choking him for a less desperate hug instead.

Severus, stiffened, even as he touched Hermione subtly, brushing his free hand against her skin in a way that made it look like he was brushing a bit of lint off her robes.

"Madam, if I could withhold the potion for your treatment of Minerva's daughter, even if only verbally, I would, but it was she who wished to help you and your family at the request of your twin sons in some misguided belief that you couldn't help yourselves. But _**I**_ know better."

Severus' lips curved into a sneer. "You _could_ curb your temper, but you choose not to. You _could_ ask questions like a civil human being, but you do not. You _could_ wait until a child is not present to talk about her like you don't think she belongs here, but again, you didn't. And I know, Mrs Weasley, that you know _exactly_ what this young girl has been through, yet somehow, all that knowledge gets cast into the four corners of oblivion the moment one of your children is in trouble, even if that child is entirely to blame for his own misfortune and, in this case, that of his family, so you will have to pardon me as I brew this potion for the sake of the family members whose only crime was to be related to the wrong person."

"Seeing as we can only collect the reagent when Hermione is calm and happy, I will take her to the healer's lounge to rest as we prepare the rest," Cadmus said, pitched quietly so that Molly could not hear. "Does that sound acceptable to you, little sister?"

Hermione nodded, tightening her arms around his neck.

Cadmus smiled at Severus. "I'll make sure the room is completely secured," Cadmus said to him meaningfully, and Severus nodded, taking the time to gently touch Hermione's hand as he tutted.

Cadmus carried Hermione away, not seeming to mind that she was just a bit unwieldy to port around, leaving Severus to his work and Molly to cough sparks and set her own hospital gown on fire.

* * *

"Well, baby brother," Bill said as he sat down by Ron's bedside. "How does it feel to be the harbinger that almost killed his entire family?"

"Whut?" Ron groaned, groggily sitting up in the bed and then slumping back down as a harsh coughing fit sent sparks flying out his nose.

Bill slid a phial of glowing aquamarine liquid onto the table next to Ron's bed. "You managed to almost kill our mum. She may not be perfect, but she's our mum, and she loves us all, even when we don't deserve it. Dad, of course, well, he's only barely recovered, and he's trying to contact all of our relatives that you may or may not have cared for to make sure they aren't dying in a hospital somewhere from dragon pox.

Bill sighed. "Look, Ron, I know you've think you've been dealt a bad card in being the baby male of the family. You've always had the hand-me-down everything from clothes to a wand. You even had Percy's un-familiar. I get it. You finally have someone to blame and you couldn't not do it, but you really need to pull your head out of your arse, Ron. You hate Snape? He made this potion. You hate the twins? They managed to convince McGonagall's daughter to give our family the benefit of the doubt. You hate that little witch that has taken the brunt of your nastiness? It was because of her kindness that convinced Snape to even entertain helping our family after what you did and after what mum let slip from her mouth. So drink up, little brother. That is your cure. And your new life debt."

Bill stood, pushing his long ginger hair back from his face. "Or don't drink it and find out if you're lucky enough to survive the dragon pox on your own." He gave his brother a dispassionate look. "Grow up, little brother. I know there's got to be some redeemable part of you that you've managed to bury underneath all that hate. Nurture _that_ instead of this dark festering thing inside you that is slowly trying to kill you and everyone you care for— and kindly do it before our parents are forced to disown you just to keep the rest of us alive the _next_ time you bring down some other horrible curse upon us all."

Bill sighed and stood. "Take some time to think it through," he said. "Not _too_ long, though, because you can't drink a potion when you're dead."

Bill swept the room, leaving Ron in silence.

Ron stared at the phial of glowing potion, wanting to have someone or something other than himself to blame, but for once there was nothing he could think of but the cure dangling in front of him.

* * *

"Hermione, if you keep using the telescope so often, you're going to see stars everywhere," Sinistra admonished fondly as Hermione bounced on her toes in response.

"I like stars," Hermione said.

Daemon yawned in triplicate, dosing lazily nearby, but his tail thumped the ground in approval.

"Have you been enjoying your Greek lessons?" Sinistra asked.

Hermione nodded. "Yes, Professor." Her hands sought out Sinistra's face, seeking the lines to see if she was smiling.

Aurora smiled, allowing the girl to see her expression through her fingers.

Hermione beamed back, happy that her professor was happy.

"We all know you've been studying very hard this summer, but you haven't neglected your fun too, hrm?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, professor," she relied.

"Mr Hagrid hasn't been giving you grief over Daemon, has he?"

Hermione frowned. "He doesn't like me very much. He also came out of the forest all upset because someone murdered his friends."

Sinistra raised a brow, and Hermione tilted her head as her professor's expression changed under her hands.

"Mr Hagrid has always believed his foundling are his, and each have been his best friend," she tutted. "I would pay him no mind for his comments most times, but that is not to say he wouldn't have something to say you may need to pay attention to. I think he's upset that his Acromantulas were dealt with— mind you not as permanently as all of us would like. Our headmaster at the time, Armando Dippet, tried to parlay and broker peace with the centaur of the forest and it failed because someone let loose a monster in Hogwarts around the same time someone set loose an Acromantula into the woods. It was not a trusting time, and I fear the tension between us here at Hogwarts and the centaur have never been that good."

Hermione reached around and felt her way to the balcony, feeling the wind on her face. Keeping to herself what she knew about her centaur friends, she frowned at how misunderstandings plagued both sides. Knowing the Acromantulas, however, that was a true danger— especially knowing the story of how they had betrayed even Death and the basilisks and other spiders that had guarded his domain.

Yet, even as she thought of this, she remembered had it not been for the wizards— the three brothers— the Acromantulas would never have risen and been corrupted by the Dark taint caused by the torture of the basilisk's hatchlings trapped within the egg. It was by the hand of humans that had the power to be caretakers or destroyers that great and horrible things were done.

Hermione tried to imagine what it would have felt like to have an egg, who unborn was so precious, and have it tortured and fed to vengeful spiders. She hugged herself at the thought.

"Cold?" Aurora asked, putting a shawl around the girl's shoulders.

Hermione looked up and smiled. "Thank you."

"I will be flooing back home until the term starts again, Hermione, but have any questions or wish to use the telescopes while I am away, have your mum send me an owl, okay?"

"Okay," Hermione agreed.

Aurora gently caressed her hair. "Such a good child. I will see you again when the term starts."

* * *

Sithiss yawned as Hermione tried to wrap her body around the giant basilisk had bring her head down to the ground, but Sithiss was all muscle and amusement, and Hermione was smaller and frustrated.

Fawkes warbled encouragement, watching.

It was a game they were teaching her, but it was training nonetheless. Physical training came with toning of the mind, and they were thorough, patient teachers. Hermione was an apt pupil, but she was young and inexperienced in far more than she was experienced, despite how she compared to her peers. Her moments of Death-inspired omniscience were fewer and far between now that her life wasn't in immediate danger, and she was allowed to be a child again— something her tutors seem to realise she'd never really been able to be, even when her life was wholly Muggle.

Slowly, she began to come out of her shell and explore the world with more playfulness as well as curiosity— at least when no other children were around. The very thought of the students returning to Hogwarts caused her to withdraw into a quivering ball of young basilisk, diving under the coils of the nearest adult she could find, or if no adult basilisk could be found, clinging to someone in silent panic.

Cadmus, however, came often to check on her as well as offer her distraction. Unintentionally, he had inspired Hermione to nudge him and Poppy together, surreptitiously shifting into her basilisk form and "cuddling" them together. Cadmus started to even soften to the idea when he noticed how well Poppy was responding to Hermione's "otherlyness".

And one sunny morning, when Cadmus and Hermione had taken to sunning together on the shores of Black Lake, Hermione feigned obliviousness as Poppy trudged up to give her apply some of her salve for her scales. The larger quetzalcoatl tried to hide behind Hermione, trembling with fear that Poppy would make the connection between them and run screaming back to the infirmary.

Strangely, Poppy went to work salving up Hermione's scales and making sure she was covered from head to tailtip and then moved right on to Cadmus. The quetzalcoatl froze in shock and pleasure, unaccustomed to the feel of hands on his scales.

"You're an idiot," Poppy muttered as she rubbed the moisturizer into Cadmus' scales. "Did you think I'd run screaming in the night the moment I saw how beautiful you were?"

Cadmus swallowed hard and nodded his serpentine head, his crest feathers drooping a little.

Poppy caressed his nose. "You're so insecure, Cadmus," Poppy said. She pressed a kiss to the top of his snout. "I've known what you were since the night that that wizard thought he could take liberties with me and he showed up in the infirmary the next day with almost every bone in his body broken." She soothed his head-scales between his eyes. "Thank you for that, by the way."

Cadmus looked at the witch with nothing short of adoration in his slitted eyes. He wrapped himself around the mediwitch lovingly as Hermione sneakily slithered into the undergrowth and away, a serpentine grin on her snout.

* * *

"Daughter."

The young basilisk froze in place, part of a boar sticking out of her maw.

Minerva walked up to her, giving her the eye. "You wouldn't happen to know what happened to our mediwitch, by chance?"

Hermione turned her sulfurous orbs to look at her, her jaws ending the boar's struggle with a _**crack**_. Looking ever so much like the basilisk caught with her snout in the porcine-shaped biscuit barrel, she couldn't help but look guilty.

"Oh, don't be such a prude, Minerva," Severus muttered as he stirred his cauldron. "We all knew Cadmus has been pining over Poppy ever since he first set eyes upon her, and that didn't include the all the time he's probably been doing the same _before_ we accidentally set them together again."

The young basilisk finished swallowing her lunch, and the lump moved down her throat into her stomach as her muscles and ribs pushed the hog down into the proper position to be digested.

"You're _hardly_ one to talk about being a prude, Severus," Minerva fussed. "You're the one who is violently allergic to children snogging in the broom closets."

Severus curled his lip. "Hormone-saturated children enthusiastically groping each other in closets are disgusting," he informed her. "So are the adults in most cases."

Minerva waved him off. "Where did you get the boar?"

"Petal brings them for 'her mistress' lunch," Severus said. "Sirius' gift to her for having dealt with his mother's portrait."

"The boar or a house-elf?" Minerva attempted to clarify.

"Yes," Severus answered.

Minerva gave him a look, puckering her lips. "And the white chocolate dipped rodents?"

Severus turned his head. "Regulus."

"They're really good," Sithiss said, yawning and showing all of her fangs.

"Nasty," Fawkes muttered.

"Psh, didn't see _you_ complaining when that gigantic renewing fondue fruit bowl arrived," Sithiss hissed merrily.

Fawkes muttered as he gobbled down a bunch of grapes. "Idon'tknowhatyou'retalkingabout, dinosaur."

Sithiss shook her head. "It's said that you're mind voice mumbles like your mouth full of fruit."

Fawkes snorted, covering Sithiss with bits of pineapple.

Sithiss glowered. "Don't _make_ me bleed my dinner over you, feathered pterodactyl."

Hermione giggled, a strange sound that mixed hisses with odd breathing coming from her basilisk form.

Severus pinched his nose and shook his head. "Hermione, come tell me what potion this is."

Hermione slithered over, shifting more smoothly into her human form after many, many failed and bungled attempts to hone her skill. Practice made perfect. She sniffed the cauldron delicately, and her tongue flicked out to carefully taste the air. "Anti-petrification potion!"

"And what do they call that in your books, hrm?"

Hermione made a face. "Erm, Wiggenweld."

Snape chuckled and pulled out another cauldron. "Now, try again with _out_ tasting the air."

"Aw," Hermione pouted, crestfallen. She wafted her hand over the cauldron and sniffed tentatively. "Hellebore… and something…. Bloodstone? No! Moonstone! Something like animal hair, valerian, and—" Hermione's eyes flicked as she tried really hard to decipher the last scent. "There's something else." She concentrated fiercely. "Draught of Peace! The last one has to be unicorn horn!"

Snape looked at her, face unreadable. "And _why_ would you think it's unicorn horn?"

Hermione flushed and looked to the side. "Because that's the only potion that would have those things and only have one thing missing."

"You're sure?"

Hermione nodded.

"Positive?"

Hermione fidgeted. "I was until you started staring at me like that."

Snape's lips curved up slightly in a smile. "You are correct. Good job."

Hermione broke into a radiant smile and hugged his waist.

Snape placed a hand on her hair and ruffled it. "Why don't you go help Argus rescue Mrs Norris from Peeves?"

"Okay!" Hermione said, bouncing on her heels.

"Take the flaming rooster with you too."

Fawkes glared at Sithiss as she disappeared into Hermione's skin. He landed on Hermione's shoulder, and she oofed with his weight but shuffled out the door. Daemon appeared at her side and set his side next to her so she could feel her way safely. They disappeared together.

Minerva sighed and gave Snape a nudge. "Trying to get her to branch out and make new friends?"

Severus rolled his eyes. "She loves all manner of beasts, and Mrs Norris, for some inexplicable reason, loves her back. It's only a matter of time that Argus thaws out and adores her."

"It has nothing to do with the fact no one really pays Argus any attention?"

"Madam, I am too old to plot new friendships for your daughter. I simply point her in a direction and _she_ attracts them— as long as they aren't students and human, so it seems."

Minerva closed her eyes and hiss-sighed. "This wouldn't happen to be because Peeves managed to royally piss off the Bloody Baron, would it?"

"Madam, what do you take me for?"

"A Slytherin," the elder witch said promptly. "You're a serpent."

Snape's smug smile upturned his lips. "So, too, are you, Minerva."

"Hush."

Snape gave her a very serpentine smile.

* * *

Dumbledore eyed the petrified Peeves with consternation. "I'm not even sure how this is possible," he muttered, stroking his beard. "He's a poltergeist. They aren't even proper ghosts. They are energy made form!"

Peeves hung in the air, his body completely turned to stone, his face frozen in a mask of mischievous, malicious intent. His hand was wrapped tightly around Mrs Norris' tail. The poor feline was yowling loudly in clear distress.

"Baron, did you see what happened?"

"No, Headmaster, I did not," the ghost said as he floated nearby.

"And you lot?" He asked the other ghosts.

"No, we saw nothing," the ghosts said, floating back and forth.

Dumbledore frowned. "How is it that you all had your eyes closed at exactly the same time?"

Baron floated next to Hermione. "We were playing hide and seek with the witch," he said. "We heard her yelling at Peeves to let the feline go, and then this."

Dumbledore rubbed his temples as he pulled out his wand and tried a number of spells on Peeves.

Hermione's head suddenly jerked up, her eyes searching.

"What is it?" Sithiss hissed in her mind.

"That is my Lord Father's wand," Hermione said. "I can see it."

Fawkes, who was making nice and sitting on the Headmaster's shoulder, seemed startled. "All this time? Right in front of me."

Hermione nodded then frowed. "Does he _know_ it's cursed?"

Sithiss hissed. "Doubtful. Those are only stories, and history has a way of making light of old curses, especially when the misfortune can so easily be blamed on other things."

"But, it could hurt him," Hermione said worriedly. "Maybe it already is?"

Fawkes sighed. "Maybe, but we should let it go for now. We know he has it, and that's most of the battle. No one is going to steal it from Albus Dumbledore anytime soon or easily."

Hermione nodded. "Okay."

"Miss McGonagall?" Albus' voice interrupted the silent mental conversation.

"Yes, Headmaster?" Hermione said, turning her head up. She had her eyes blindfolded to shield her eyes from the glaring sunlight from outside that interfered with her sense of energy and heat.

"Are you alright, my dear? Did Peeves hurt you in any way?"

"No, sir, he was just hurting poor Mrs Norris," she replied.

Filius, after finding that magic wasn't working to shrink Mrs Norris temporarily, used his magic to "shear" the Peeve's statue to release the poor feline from her tail prison, and she shot off down the hallway, yowling indignantly.

Dumbledore sighed. "Well, I can't say anyone is really going to object to Peeves being a little stiff until we can figure out how to release him."

"Not to be the voice of the obvious here, Headmaster," Severus said, "but why should we even care? He's been nothing but trouble since he arrived."

"Well he is a figure of Hogwarts," Albus said.

"So is Moaning Myrtle, and you don't see anyone lamenting when she flushes herself into the Black Lake." Flitwick's voice sounded strangely terse, causing the Headmaster to eye him strangely.

Albus frowned and rubbed his hair. "I suppose. I'll have to make a report to the Board of Governors, regardless."

"They'll probably want to have a party to celebrate, Headmaster," the Baron said as he floated away. "I know _**I**_ will."

* * *

"Surely Dumbledore knows," Regulus said as Lucius slithered back in from tucking in Draco into the basilisk pileup in the next room.

"Perhaps, perhaps not," Severus said. "We can presume he does, but there seems to be a sort of protective aura about our young lady that keeps her unassuming, even to one such as Albus."

"It makes sense, considering who she belongs to," Lucius said. "Whom we all do, now."

"At least it was a willing, nurturing relationship."

"Some would say willing, nurturing relationships with Death are little contradictory," Lucius said, giving Severus the eye.

Severus just shrugged. "Some say once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater."

Lucius sighed. "Well, at least we proved them wrong there."

"Regulus, I think, wonders if Hermione will favour him as she has for us, but I told him while she has fondness for him, he has be something more than just a friend, and that will have to take time. His being a Black, despite her saving his life, brings out a bit of trepidation."

"It's not impossible," Lucius said. "She did, after all, forgive me. I, who sacrificed her to begin with—"

Severus put a hand on his friend's shoulder. "While under duress and possession," he pointed out. "Even she knew this."

Lucius sighed and nodded. "I suppose it is useless crying over what was when forgiveness from her is a balm I hadn't even realised I needed."

"She is blind to the petty things most see first," Severus said. "I've come to understand that this is an advantage and not a failing."

"True Slytherin quality, hrm?" Lucius chuckled as he managed to make brushing his hair back from his ears look suave.

Severus snorted. "Don't be teaching her how to be a little peacock as well, Lucius. I don't want to see her powdering her face like Narcissa before even thinking about going out."

Lucius laughed. "I think Fawkes and Sithiss would destroy me if I tried."

"I'd help," Severus muttered. He tilted his head. "Do you find it odd that we so easily gather around each other now with this strangely comfortable trust?"

Lucius tilted his head, thinking. "Feels good though, yes?"

Severus nodded. "Growing up here at Hogwarts did not give us such luxuries. If anything, distrust was fostered here far better."

"And yet, Hogwarts gifted us with our gentle young Queen of the Shimmering Scales."

Severus smiled. "Regulus' news of the Horcruxes, however— I wonder how they were affected by the petrification of the Dark Lord's avatar body."

"Alastor has been busy draining all the information he can out of Regulus for some time now," Lucius said. "Do you think he'll share the investigation or believe the Aurors are the only ones who can deal with it?"

Severus rubbed his chin with his fingers. "Good thing Regulus has no issues sharing with us, even if Alastor cannot. However—" He looked toward the other room. "Perhaps even Moody is not immune to to our young queen, hrm?"

Lucius sipped his tea. "Perhaps."

The pair continued to talk until a sleepy, young basilisk slithered in from the other room (Draco still dead asleep with his arms wrapped snugly around her girth), yawned toothily, and then lay her head in Severus' lap as she curled her tail around Lucius' waist. She was instantly asleep in seconds, pinning both with her huge serpentine mass.

Lucius exchanged glances with Severus. "Bed time."

Severus sighed. "So it would seem."

Hours later, when Narcissa flooed in to check on what had become of her husband and son, she found an impressive serpentine pileup with Draco obliviously drooling both atop and in the middle of the mass of scales and coils. Lucius used his head to pull her closer, tucking her against his warmth and the combined heat of the gathered serpents.

At first, Narcissa looked at little discomfited, but as her hands stroked the fine scales on her husband's snout, she smiled and snuggled down against him.

* * *

A knock on Minerva's portal door caused basilisks to fly in all directions, retreating into the next room as Lucius tail-dragged Draco and Narcissa with him and Minerva stood up in human form to answer the door. She groggily staggered closer to the door.

"Yes?" she grumbled, yawning, touching her hands to her eyes to make sure the protective lenses were in place.

"Minnnerrrrrvaaaa," a voice whinged from beyond the door. "Have you seen Ssssheverruss? I _**need**_ him!"

Minerva curled her lip. "I rather doubt that."

"But I _**doooo**_ ," Trelawney moaned. "I have a rash."

 _That's not all you have_ , Minerva thought to herself.

"Poppy said she didn't have any balm left," Trelawney whimpered from the other side of the door.

"Then why are you at _my_ door, Sybill?" Minerva asked, frowning.

"Well, Ssssheverus wasn't in his chambers," Trelawney whinged.

"Sybill," Minerva said as she opened the door, "I highly recommen—"

Trelawney, her head plastered against the door, suddenly fell back into Minerva's foyer and landed on her face, her enormous glasses spinning off across the floor. She frantically patted around for them and then ran into one of the clawed armchairs.

"Ssssheverus, is that _**you?**_ " she cooed, stroking the clawed foot of the chair.

Minerva turned a little green and struggled to maintain her composure.

"Sssheverus, you'll make me some more of that balm, won't you?" Sybill yammered on, then her hands finally found her obnoxiously thick glasses and she rose up from slobbering all over Minerva's armchair, looking decidedly confused.

As she looked up, her bleary eyes focused on a very large serpent with her head stuck in a water glass, her tongue flicking in and out of it as she took a drink. The serpent seemed utterly oblivious to Trelawney's stare in favour of getting every single drop out of the glass.

Trelawney shrieked bloody murder, stumbling backwards over herself as multiple sherry bottles spilled out from the pockets of her robes. She tripped over the armchair she had been groveling to earlier and staggered unsteadily out of the room, running into one wall after another, and then knocked herself out clear out on the portal door.

Minerva pursed her lips as the sleepy young basilisk lay her head over on top of hers like a totem pole. She reached up and affectionately patted Hermione's head. "I really should admonish you for that, my dear, but I believe we'll go bake shortbread biscuits instead."

Hermione flicked her tongue in and out, radiating pure happiness.

* * *

"Sybill, Sybill," Albus chastised. "I've warned you repeatedly about your drinking."

"There was a b-b-b-b-b-big sn-sn-sn-snake drinking from a cup in Minerva's quarters!"

"Mmhmmm," Albus said as Fawkes warbled _They're Coming to Take Me Away_ , _Ha-Ha_ from his perch.

"It was h-h-h-huuuuge, Albus! Why don't you believe me?!"

"Oh, I'm sure you saw what claim you did, Sybill," Albus said with a long sigh.

"Minerva is harbouring a giant reptile in her quarters, Albussss!"

"Minerva," Albus said, turning to look rather wearily at his Deputy Headmistress. "Are you harbouring giant reptiles in your chambers?"

"Why of course I am, Albus," Minerva replied, utterly deadpan. "Multiple ones, in fact. And all of them basilisks. In fact, I'm one too."

Albus raised a brow. "Sybill, you can see just how ludicrous this sounds, yes?"

"Nunununuuooooo, Albus," Sybill protested. "It was _**real!**_ I _**saw**_ it! Minerva! Tell him you saw the giant ssssssnake drinking off your table!"

Minerva rolled her eyes, then looked at Albus. "There was a giant snake drinking off my table."

"See! _**She**_ saw it!"

Albus shook his head at Minerva, making a cut it out motion with his hand. "And you, Severus? Were you here for this sighting?"

"No, Headmaster, I believe I was cramming myself into the form of a giant reptile and hiding in a cupboard in the desperate hope that this horrible woman would not find me." Snape curled his lip just so.

"B-b-b-ut Severusssss!" Sybill slurred.

Albus counted to ten slowly in what may or may not have been Arabic.

"Look, Sybill. If Minerva wants to harbour giant reptiles in her quarters, then that is _her_ business. If Severus wants to turn into one and hide in a cupboard, that is his right, but this out-of-control drinking of yours has _got_ to stop. How can you teach when you're more often intoxicated than sober? At this rate, I don't _care_ if half my staff are secretly bloody basilisks, Sybill. They aren't showing up drunk and constantly crying out of death and doom across my school, staff, and students!"

"B-basilisks?! That's what it was! It _**was**_ a basilisk!" Trelawney exclaimed. "Albus, you have _**got**_ to get rid of it! I know! I'll get a bunch of roosters! That will get rid of the problem right quick!" The witch leapt up and tore out of the Headmaster's office at a dead run.

Albus rubbed the space between his eyes with his fingers. "If she had ever bothered to read _Hogwarts: A History_ , she'd recall that Salazar Slytherin jinxed the school to silence all chicken fowl noises at Hogwarts due to them crowing at all hours and disturbing his sleep— as well as everyone else's."

"Minerva, did you have to rile her up even more than she already was?"

Minerva puckered her lips. "You know well what I think of that detestable woman."

Dumbledore stroked his beard. "She has to remain at Hogwarts, Minerva. Her life would be in danger the moment she left."

"Her life is in danger every minute she lives here too," Severus said with a sneer. "By her own hand and her cups. It's amazing she hasn't tripped over herself and fallen down the spiral staircase already."

Albus sighed. "Maybe we can take lessons from Muggles and send her away to be detoxed."

Severus' mouth curved wickedly. "Now _there_ is a potion I would truly enjoy brewing."

* * *

Hermione stared at the rooster sitting on the end of her snout as it vainly tried to crow. It seemed baffled that his chicken manliness was not being broadcast to his expectation and gave a silent crow again. The hens, seemingly unimpressed by his lack of crowing, milled about more silently.

Hermione tongueflicked, pondering having chicken for lunch.

Thanks to Professor Trelawney, many, many chickens had infested Hogwarts, so much so that Rubeus Hagrid's hut was covered in poultry droppings and Albus was considering calling in Kettleburn to do a chicken roundup before the students returned. Hagrid, however, was attempting to hoard the chickens in his hut rather than see them taken away.

Trelawney, however, was stepping on every last nerve the Headmaster had by proclaiming "down with the basilisk!" and "doom upon Hogwarts until all the basilisks are dead!" All of which didn't go over well when the Board of Governors came through for a tour of the facilities and found her crowing from the front of the Great Hall with a chicken strapped to her head.

They then spent a great many hours speaking with the deeply annoyed Headmaster about the rules regarding teachers who were _not_ performing extra work for the school having to go home as well as some concerns as to Sybill's questionable suitability for a teaching position in any capacity. As for the result of the debate, Minerva remained hopeful that they would finally be rid of the pitiful excuse for a witch, though she didn't say it aloud to Hermione let she get the wrong idea about how to treat the other teachers at Hogwarts.

* * *

 _ **First Annual Hogwarts Summer Holiday Open House Chicken Barbeque**_

 _Albus Dumbledore is opening up the gates of Hogwarts for students and their families a little bit early this year to have the first -ever summer chicken barbeque._

 _Attendees, which will include Hogwarts staff, students and their families, and local residents of Hogsmeade, will be treated to a number of international poultry delights as well as all manner of traditional British picnic necessities._

 _Invitations will be sent out for the event via owl, which will act as a Portkey to the Hogwarts gates during the specified times._

 _Returning students will be welcome to bring their trunks and supplies early so their things are waiting for them when they take the Hogwarts Express in September. Headmaster Dumbledore asks that students not leave their familiars and wait to bring them during the regular move-in times._

 _A special elf-made wine tasting will also be offered to all adult guests.. Small-batch special varieties of pumpkin juice, lemonade, butterbeer and cider will be available for the younger attendees._

 _Keep your eyes peeled for those invitations by owl!_

* * *

 _ **Rubeus Hagrid Protests Chicken Barbeque at Hogwarts**_

 _Gameskeeper Rubeus Hagrid protested the first Hogwarts chicken barbeque by dressing as a giant Orpington rooster, causing people to wonder if he was for or against the event due to his appearance. He was later joined by Divination Professor Sybill Trelawney, the supposed descendant of Cassandra Trelawney, the renowned Seer, who thrust roosters into unsuspecting attendees' arms, loudly proclaiming they would protect them from the ultimate evil the lurks within the halls of Hogwarts._

 _Ms Trelawney was arrested by Aurors after Lady Malfoy sent her Patronus to fetch them after being assaulted with multiple drunken roosters that had apparently been washed in cream sherry._

 _Headmaster Dumbledore offered his sincere apologies to Lady Malfoy as Ms Trelawney started crowing like a rooster "to banish the insidious evil."_

 _Trelawney has since been taken to St Mungos where she will be evaluated and treated for suspected alcohol abuse and paranoid delusions. As to who will take up her position until she returns, should the Board of Governors even choose to approve said return, remains to be seen._

 _As for Rubeus Hagrid, who had been sitting in the hippogriff enclosure, wailing that everyone was eating his friends, he was subsequently taken away to St Mungos after being trampled by said hippogriffs, who were understandably agitated by the groundskeeper's rather hysterical caterwauling._

 _Happily, after the two instigators were taken away, the event went very smoothly with no further issues. Many guests, including Lady Malfoy, stated they would look forward to another such event in the future._

* * *

 _ **Three Broomsticks Adds New Egg Entrees to More than Breakfast**_

 _Broomsticks proprietor Rosalind Rosmerta has added farm fresh eggs to many menu items at Three Broomsticks after the recent Hogwarts chicken boom resulted in a great many extra laying hens._

 _New menu fare includes hearty dinner omelets, dragon steak and eggs, potato and egg casserole, scotch eggs, egg salad croissants, various seasonal quiches, and many more egg offerings, including an absolutely divine lemon soufflé_ _, in honour of Hogwarts Headmaster Albus Dumbledore._

 _The roosters all seem to be afflicted by a powerful jinx that prevents them from crowing, making them the most sought-after birds for urban chicken farmers in Wizarding Britain. Those wishing to purchase a silent rooster are welcomed to apply with Professor Silvanus Kettleburn by owl._

* * *

Hermione's second year started with many more whispers about her blindness, and while Hermione's protective lenses prevented her from unintentionally petrifying anyone, she preferred to keep her eyes closed and hidden behind her blindfold and in the blessed, soothing dark where only energy and magic penetrated.

Someone had started a rumour that she had allegedly "asked for it" when it came to her various misfortunes, and others claimed that magic itself was punishing her for being "unfit" to use it.

Hermione, hearing them contemplate stealing the beautiful silver and emerald velvet circlet that protected her eyes, made sure to stay behind in class so she was never alone, choosing not to make her way to each class unless one of her teachers or Daemon was there to assist her. Fawkes was often off making nice with Dumbledore, and Sithiss remained in her mind to keep her company.

Even her "tattoo" of Sithiss, when the other children caught a glimpse of it, served to egg them on and gave them something else to pick on her for being different.

Unlike many other children, Hermione's hearing was quite keen, and she heard every single nasty little insult they could think of. No one, it seemed, least of all her student peers, wanted to be near her lest they bring whatever curse was afflicting _her_ down upon themselves. And those that didn't like her for those reasons often disliked her for being bound to the wealthy and influential Malfoy family—either out of envy or disgust. Harry and Draco still tried to be there for her, but they were outgunned and outnumbered in many ways.

Harry had passed his tests to go on to the second year with flying colours, having dedicated himself to his studies with far more devotion than he had the entire first year. Seamus and Ron, however, had both found solidarity in each other in dismal failure, and the both of them were held behind, joining Ron's little sister, Ginevra, in her first year classes at Hogwarts.

The teasing, at least, started to simmer down once word that Ron and Seamus hadn't gotten a mere slap on the wrist and allowed back into their year, but the whispers remained. Hermione, however, had become used to the loneliness in regards to her "peers" and instead took solace in her trusted circle of adults and the centaurs.

It wasn't a perfect childhood, but she was content, and there were many times and many nights when sleeping in the coils of her fellow basilisks was most treasured thing in the world to her.

* * *

"You're not Harry," Myrtle hissed. "Get out!"

The ghost caused the toilets to explode, water reaching the ceiling.

Hermione, who had felt her way in, paused. "This is the girls lavatory. Why on earth would Harry be—"

Myrtle zoomed around Hermione, getting up into her face. "Don't think I don't know what kind of person _you_ are, Hermione. Leading on Draco. Leading on Harry. I know _all_ about you. You think you're so sweet and unassuming. You get all the teachers to do everything for you, but you're nothing but a _fake_.

Daemon growled, trying to squeeze his bulk into the lavatory, but he was a bit too large for the dimensions of the restroom.

Myrtle giggled shrilly and moved the towels around to make them snap, smacking Hermione with them until Hermione was drenched and dripping with water. The ghost grinned maliciously and yanked the circlet off Hermione's head.

Hermione screeched in fright, clamping her hands over her eyes and squeezing them shut.

"You're just like _**her!**_ " Myrtle cried. "That _**stupid**_ Olive Hornsby! She made fun of my glasses, and she thought she was better than me. Well, _**I'm**_ better than _**her**_ , and I'm better than _**you!**_ "

She grinned. "I'll be here to console Harry and Draco after your sad, tragic death." She puckered her lips. "Maybe, I'll depress them so much that they'll die here too. Then I'll have company!"

The ghost clapped her hands in glee. She used the towels to wrap around Hermione's arms and pull them back from her eyes, and Hermione squeezed her eyes shut tightly.

"Please, I haven't done anything to you!"

"It's more that you exist," Myrtle said scornfully. She used her power to bind Hermione up and slam her hard against the stalls, tying her to random places as she used the towels to pry open Hermione's eyes. "You might as well look at me so I can see _**why**_ those people tiptoe around you. Are your eyes crossed? Do you have scars over your eyes? Maybe you don't _**HAVE**_ any eyes. What are these things over your eyes?"

The ghost glowered over Hermione. "I think you're just like every other little popular girl in this school. All of them have some stupid little gimmick to catch the attention of the handsome ones. Like Harry. Like Draco. If _**I**_ were still alive, I would know what they wanted!"

"No, please," Hermione whimpered, struggling to close her eyes and protect her eyes and the precious lenses that protected them.

Myrtle pushed the towels across her eyes and forced the lenses Poppy had magically set over the surface of her eyes. At first the lenses didn't budge, as Poppy's magic had protected them from anyone but Hermione being able to move them, but Myrtle was determined. She used her ghostly energy to try and pry them off.

Hermione screamed in pain as Daemon barked furiously, desperately trying to claw his way into the small door. The walls started to crack and crumble as he slammed himself into the wall over and over again.

Myrtle cackled in malicious glee, spinning like a top, and then she looked right into Hermione's terrified face.

"I'm going to make sure that boys like them never pay attention to you again," Myrtle said viciously. "I hope you _**rot**_ just like Olive Hornby!"

As she reached for Hermione's eyes, fully intending to use her ghostly energy and magic to tear off Hermione's protective lenses, the false "normal" eyes dissolved away, exposing Hermione's true, sulfurous eyes of a basilisk— her fear having triggered the failsafe on the lenses to allow the young basilisk to be able to protect herself.

Hermione cried out as Myrtle flew straight towards her, a spiteful look on her face.

Myrtle froze in place, her ethereal form solidifying with a crackling sound.

The moment Myrtle became stone, the towels released Hermione, and she fell to the ground with a thud. She squeezed her eyes shut almost immediately, feeling around for her lost circlet.

"Ah—" she stammered. "Accio my circlet," she cried, and the circlet flew into her hand. She fumbled with it, placing it back around her head and feeling the cool, soothing fabric cover her eyes again with blissful, protective darkness.

She felt her way towards the door, running into Daemon's muzzles, and he whined at her with concern, licking her hands as he backed up from the door and into the hallway. She wrapped her arms around one of the dog's muzzles and talked to him in gibberish Greek, using random words she had learned but couldn't recall the meanings in her stressed state.

The cerberus wedged his head under her and shoveled her up onto the back of his middle neck where she was safe. As he carried her away from the lavatory, the petrified Myrtle wobbled violently and crashed to the ground, shattering into countless pieces.

* * *

"Is she alright, Poppy?" Minerva asked, wringing her hands worriedly.

Hermione, who was snuggled in as close as she could get to Cadmus, having wrapped her arms around the quetzalcoatl's feathered neck, was sound asleep.

"She's fine, Minerva," Poppy said. "More scared than hurt. The wet towels left some bruises, but it wasn't anything I couldn't fix up in a jiff. I put another set of protective lenses over her eyes. In a few days, she'll feel right as rain again."

Poppy sat down in the chair by Minerva's table and accepted a cup of tea. "I'm really glad you called me here, though. I don't think I could have kept Cadmus hidden from Albus when he's in his protective state. Cadmus the human, yes. This? No."

Minerva snorted. "I'm still waiting for Albus to come sailing through the door saying he knows everything and wants the whole story."

Poppy shrugged. "That would be a pretty complicated story, love."

Minerva looked skyward. "To be sure."

"Myrtle?" Poppy asked.

"In pieces," Minerva said grimly. "Severus took care of it, grumbling that if he got caught in the girl's lavatory, he was going to take a large bite out of someone's arse."

"I'm surprised you aren't in there curling up around her too," Minerva said with a small smile.

Poppy snorted. "I'm sure it is the precisely same challenge you are having," she teased.

Minerva chuckled. "It helps that it happens daily to keep that instinct well under control."

Poppy raised a brow.

Minerva gave her a look. "I'm surprised you're not slithered up against a certain handsome quetzalcoatl."

Poppy averted her eyes. "It may have happened enough lately that I can keep that instinct well under control." She coughed slightly, flushing.

Minerva smiled, patting her old friend and colleagues' hand. "We may be different species, lass, but we're all united under scales, even if you have a few feathers added in.

Poppy chuckled. "I do wonder if Albus suspects."

"I don't think anyone suspects basilisks and quetzalcoatls, old friend," Minerva said with a mischievous grin. "Not in the slightest. And suspecting such a sweet young girl of being what he would consider to be a murderous beast is probably the least of his concerns. She's been through such a terrible loss, been " blinded" and picked on mercilessly— I don't think any sane person would blame her for being as flighty as she's been, much less so afraid of the other students."

"She's so very bright," Poppy said. She tilted her head. "Maybe—"

"Hrm?"

Poppy had a sly smile on her face. "What if Cadmus takes her on as his apprentice? She could be out, away from the students who seek to traumatise her, at least some of the time, yes? She'd be with both her kin and someone who understands her condition as well. She'd return to Hogwarts when her day was finished. It would keep her some distance away from Albus as well— and his ever-prying eyes. She's learn healing from the like no other human could possibly fathom— and work intimately with healers who could and would truly appreciate her unique talents."

Minerva rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "You've been thinking on this for quite some time, haven't you, Poppy?"

Poppy nodded. "It would protect her a little more."

Minerva nodded. "I cannot disagree with that, Poppy. If Cadmus is willing— and Hermione as well— then I believe it would be just the thing for her."

* * *

Lucius and Narcissa promptly took Hermione out to be fitted for the appropriate apprentice healer robes, and Narcissa enjoyed grooming the young apprentice's hair and setting it with an exquisite goblin silver serpent that wove into her hair and pulled it back into an intricate French braid that coiled neatly against the back of her head..

Hermione opened up little more to Narcissa's gentle grooming, and allowed her to fuss despite the fact Hermione wasn't exactly gazing into a mirror all day just to check herself out. They spent hours feeling delicate silks and other fabrics that would be the most comfortable for Hermione while she worked with Cadmus. Expensive custom enchantments went into the robes so they would not be destroyed if she had to shift forms on the fly and would instead merge with her scales.

The seamstress and enchanter regaled Hermione with hilarious tales of Animagi transformations gone very wrong when they didn't pay extra for the appropriate enchantments and ended up being caught in very embarrassing positions and even more mortifying situations when they had to change back. Hermione's favourite story was that of someone named Master Durward Franks, who ended up waking up starkers after a drunken canine revel sans clothing. The poor wizard was forced to cover his inadequate manhood with a very frilly Muggle dress he had found drying on a clothesline and a strand of birthday balloons. His rather wet humiliation came when he dove into the Leaky and hid himself in a room until someone could bring him money to pay for the room that he had 'confiscated', some new clothes, and compensation for the poor woman that he'd nicked the dress from.

Cadmus scheduled her hours so she started a little later in the morning to get ample sleep, knowing that she would often have to stay a little late according to his schedule. She would return after he was sure she was fed, and he would hand off the sleepy basilisk off to her mother, who put her directly to bed before doing her rounds. On weekends, she was as free as any other Hogwarts student, and enjoyed spending time in the forest with the centaur herd when she wasn't doing homework or helping out around the school with tasks for Minerva or the other teachers.

Autumn came and went, and Hermione enjoyed her time away from the general student population as Cadmus' apprentice. Much to her relief, she sat with the staff up at the High Table, nestled between the comforting warmth of her mother and the dark and glowering presence of Professor Snape, whose umbral gaze seemed to petrify even without actually being in basilisk form.

Fawkes would chirp merrily from the back of Dumbledore's chair, sending comforting thoughts to Hermione as he made fun of the elder wizard's questionable fashion sense. Daemon, having usually spent the entire day at her side and serving as her eyes and protection, gratefully accepted any and all tasty foods Hermione chose share with him, even when he would be given his own dinner later when the house-elves would drag in something large, meaty and substantial for his meal.

Hermione started to smile more, taking comfort in things both small and large, but mainly that her family of the scale was growing more comfortable with both her and each other. While they had never been truly at odds with each other, there was a growing and comfortable warmth between them all, at no time more obvious when they entangled in each other's coils to sleep.

* * *

The parcels and mail always arrived enmasse via owl during the holidays, and Minerva was letting many of them stack up, having many far more pressing school matters to attend to. Finally, when Severus just couldn't take the sight of multiple towering stacks of mail about to topple off her desk any longer, he forced them all to sort through it before the post began to become sentient and able to beat them all at Wizard Chess.

Hermione, glad to be able to remove her blindfold and enjoy the dimness of the room, sorted through many stacks of wayward post, separating the official mail addressed to "the Deputy Headmistress" and the personal mail addressed to "Minerva McGonagall." Severus leafed through a hundred and one scrolls, and Minerva sorted through the myriad parcels, some of them in typical brown paper wrapping while others sported Christmas ribbons and brightly decorated paper.

There were many little gift boxes, but Hermione found one that was gaily wrapped and ribboned with her name written ornately on a card. She smiled. "Do you think it's from Uncle Lucius and Aunt Narcissa?" Hermione asked with a grin. "Could it be my healer's apprentice circlet?"

Severus just grunted, shaking his head as he mindlessly tossed more scrolls around into alphabetised piles. Minerva tutted, admonishing him for abusing the correspondence.

Hermione, taking no response as a positive, tugged on the silver ribbon.

 _Tssssss._

The package made an odd sound.

Snape's head shot up immediately as he stood up. Minerva, too, reached for her wand and started to run towards her.

"Hermione! Get away from that package!"

Hermione, eyes wide, struggled to get away.

"Get down!" Minerva yelled, and Hermione dropped instantly, her eyes wide with horror, even as her mum sent a beam towards the package even as Severus yelled out a spell at the same time to hopefully contain whatever was within.

Yet something very strange had apparently been woven into the package's holiday wrappings, and the silver ribbon slapped the spells away easily as the parcel burst open—

Severus dove over Hermione, managing to partially shield her with his own body even as Minerva landed next to him, covering Hermione's other side. They pushed her down, falling on top of her in their frantic haste to protect her.

 _Burble, burble, burble…_

 _ **BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!**_

The parcel's contents exploded, showering the two adults with a watery, green-tinted spray.

* * *

" _What_?" Albus gasped.

"I'm afraid it was Old Magick, Albus," Poppy said as Cadmus walked out of the private rooms that had been set aside for faculty and staff of Hogwarts.

The Headmaster narrowed his eyes at Cadmus' presence until he saw the formal healing robes and the circlet. "You must be Healer Cadmus, young Hermione's master. I do apologise, that I was not present to meet you back when you first began treating her. I hope you are pleased with your accommodation with us?"

"I am, Headmaster," Cadmus said with a slight bow of his head. "The Board of Governors was also very gracious is granting me permission to remain here for my apprentice's health as well as to offer support as needed to my fellow healers. I am pleased you agreed to the arrangements." He gave Poppy a slight smile.

Dumbledore nodded, stroking his beard. "I will certainly not turn down a healer with such excellent credentials. Your reputation at Mungo's precedes you. I must ask, though, while I trust your judgement in this, do you think Miss McGonagall might experience difficulties as a healer due to her vision?"

Cadmus smiled. "I find, Headmaster, that lack of one sense often heightens the others. If anything, she sees healing pathways far better than one with normal vision because she is not distracted by what she sees. The rest is more easily navigated due to her familiar."

Dumbledore nodded again. "I am glad to hear it. I am also glad that Hagrid's indiscretion has been to her benefit, even inadvertently."

"From the memories of the event," Cadmus said, "I can only determine for sure that the package she opened was expertly crafted to trigger while she was near. It was hateful and quite specific, and by the effects on Deputy Headmistress McGonagall and Professor Snape— it was meant to deage her to infancy and get rid of her in a rather roundabout way."

"Is there magic in it that can be traced to the one who created it?" Dumbledore asked.

Cadmus nodded. "I'm sure there is. I have preserved the parcel so such traces can be performed by Aurors in combination with matching them to the Trace on your students. I have a feeling, Headmaster, that since it was Olde Magick, that it was most likely an old family recipe, most likely the sort of thing that dips into what we now call Dark magic. The effects tend to be random but very powerful, matching the depth of hatred that went into its creation."

Albus sighed. "I am familiar. Pray, what is afflicting two of my best professors?"

"De-aging and memory loss— temporary and improving for Minerva, but especially vexing for Severus, with him being so much younger than her."

"Will they be able to teach?" Dumbledore asked.

Cadmus scrunched up his face in thought. "Minerva, yes, most likely in a week or two after the worst of the effects have worn off. Severus, however—"

"What, exactly?" Albus asked, frowning.

"It would be best if you found someone to teach in his stead at least until his age catches up. Forcing him into an adult mindset and mode right now could further injure an already volatile adolescent psyche."

Albus stared at the younger wizard in shock. " _ **What?"**_

Albus turned to go into the private room, but Poppy quickly moved to stop him.

"Headmaster, I really don't think—"

As Dumbledore pushed into the room, he saw the huge body of Daemon lurking over the bed. A young, teenage, Severus Snape was stroking the great beast's leftmost head with wonder and a smile as Hermione smiled back at him

"Does it hurt you?" the boy asked, reaching to touch her headdress, his fingers sliding against the silken blindfold.

Hermione shook her head. "No, but the sunlight does if I have it off. It's very painful."

"That sounds awful."

Hermione shrugged. "I'm used to it. If you are feeling better, please eat your soup. I put some medicine in it to make you feel better, but I promise you won't taste it."

"Oh, I guess that would be alright," he said. "That circlet means you're a healer. That means you can be trusted."

Hermione shook her head. "I'm an apprentice. The gems in the eyes on the snakes are empty." She felt around for the heads of the snakes on her circlet.

"Oh, I didn't even notice."

"Master Cadmus told me, so don't feel bad. I didn't know either."

Severus grinned, genuinely amused. "I'm glad."

"You should eat as much as you can," Hermione said kindly. "My master says it's the best way to get your energy back without taking a potion, and potions have a habit of making things happen too quickly sometimes."

"Have I been really sick?"

Hermione tilted her head. "No, but you were in a really big explosion." She hung her head. "It was all my fault. You saved me from it."

Younger Snape frowned. "You seem worth saving. So I wouldn't worry about it. Did you botch a potion?"

Hermione startled. "Oh, um, thank you. And no, I opened a box with something horrible inside it."

Snape frowned. "Sounds like something Potter or Black would do."

"Harry wouldn't ever do that!" Hermione said in a startled whisper.

"Harry who?" Severus asked, frowning. "James sodding Potter and Sirius pain-in-my-arse Black."

Hermione lifted her head and furrowed her brows. "Ummm."

"Whose robes are _those_?" Severus asked, wrinkling his nose in distaste. "They look like funerary curtains."

Hermione's eyes went over to the black woollen robes hanging on the nearby coat rack. "Uhhh—"

Both the children's heads jolted up and over to stare as the Headmaster came in. Severus' eyes went wide as Hermione's blindfold jingled slightly as it knocked against her healer's circlet.

"Ah, Severus, how are you feeling, my boy?" Albus asked with a friendly smile.

Severus swallowed hard. "Okay, I guess, Headmaster," he replied, quietly, withdrawing and scooching back in the bed and hugging a giant plush black serpent with bright orange eyes that had been his bed companion.

Albus' eyes went to Severus' arm, which was pale and unMarked. The Headmaster's face paled slightly.

"Is there something wrong, Headmaster?" Severus asked worriedly.

"No, my boy, everything is fine," Albus said. "I hope you are well on your way to recovery very soon."

Severus nodded. "Sir, does Professor Slughorn know?"

Albus tilted his head. "Know what, my boy?"

"That I'm in the infirmary and may have to miss classes," he said.

Albus frowned, and Severus looked down, thinking he'd said something wrong. "You just worry about getting well again, Se— Mr Snape, yes?"

Severus nodded. "Yessir."

The Headmaster, pale as milk, walked slowly out of the room.

"I don't think he likes me," Severus said quietly after he left.

Hermione, who had been staring into the space where the Headmaster had been, turned to Snape. "I don't think that was it," she said. She hopped down off the chair and stood up. "I should probably go."

Severus, his expression shifting through a few different expressions at once, blurted, "Could you stay for a bit longer? Until I get go to sleep again?"

Hermione, conflicted, slowly sat down on the chair again. "Okay, but just until you get to sleep."

* * *

As Hermione peered cautiously around Cadmus' leg, she found herself boggling over the somewhat plump man dressed in a brown suit. He had an oddly distinctive walrus moustache. He had eyes that seemed like the colour gooseberries, and his hair was almost strawberry white where it still tried to cling to his head in a desperate bid not to be completely bald. Whatever colour his hair might have been before then, Hermione had _no_ idea. She tucked her eyes back under her blindfold as she hid herself behind her master, taking comfort in his reassuring presence and the blissful darkness.

Sithiss and Fawkes gave her mental hugs, and she felt Sithiss' coils wrapping around her body from the inside, a trait that had brought her comfort ever since they had become bound. She could tell that this man was trying to peer around Cadmus to see her again, but thankfully her master was a good dancer, protecting her with his robes and body as cleverly and effectively as a matador.

"Well, I don't see why not," the man said to Cadmus, scratching his head. "Severus was always very bright and very talented in potions. I suppose I could— apprentice him, erm, _again_ — but are you sure this is really necessary?"

Cadmus blinked slowly, stretching his shoulders with an odd popping sound. "I believe that having some things he is familiar with or rather _was_ familiar with will help him. He may recover quite a bit, or he may not. It depends on how vile the magic was that went into that potion. The best thing that can be done for him right now is offer him stable familiarity, and being your apprentice will also keep him out of the regular classes where the other children will whisper."

Slughorn nodded, satisfied for now. "Very well, very well. I will arrange it. If anything, this will get me into proper quarters that don't make my old bones ache.

Cadmus smiled as Slughorn shuffled off, still taking a moment to look back and try to catch a glimpse at Cadmus' young apprentice. When the wizard disappeared down the hall, he looked down at Hermione and smiled. She grasped his robes and looked up at him with a warm smile that filled her eyes.

"He will recover, my young snakeling," he said fondly. "It will just take time and support. When he is ready, he will also have us to remind him of the warmth of the scale and feather."

Hermione nodded.

"It is study time for you, snakeling," Cadmus said. "Go find a new healing book in the a restricted section and we will go over it together."

Hermione broke into a vibrant smile as the healer handed her a pass. She looked like a child who had been given an all-you-can-grab pass to Honeydukes.

"Off you go, my dear" he shooed. "I will meet you in the study room."

Hermione practically skipped away, hugging the pass in her hands tightly.

* * *

"Hello, Lucius!" Hermione greeted, jumping up to give him a hug. The tall blond wizard hissed softly, pressing his head to hers as she wrapped her arms around his neck. She tongue-flicked once or twice. "You've been at Flourish and Blotts!"

"I cannot hide anything from you," he said, pulling out a decorated bag.

Hermione beamed, taking the bag with a small bow. "Thank you, Godfather!"

Minerva eyed the young basilisk as she enlarged the package with her wand and all sorts of goodies fell out: fruit for Fawkes, a dragon bone for Daemon to chew on, chocolate-dipped weasels for Sithiss, and the ever coveted leather-bound tomes for Hermione. She squealed with delight, hugging them as she flopped on the settee and began to read immediately.

"You have heard about Severus?" she asked Lucius.

Lucius nodded, his face dark with anger. "I want whoever did this to _writhe_ , Minerva. Not just for Severus' sake but for Our Lady of the Shimmering Scales. Severus is my brother, and Hermione is— well, you know exactly how special she is to us all."

Minerva nodded. "Preaching to the choir, Lucius."

"How is Severus?"

"He is settling in with Horace," she said. "For some reason Albus has been tiptoeing around them, well and me, like something may explode, but I haven't the foggiest what that's about— anyway, Severus' old quarters is locked and warded for when he remembers it's his. For now— he's been outfitted with the standard apprentice fare, and the students assume he's a relative of Severus' somewhere down the line.

"You are looking very well, Minerva, for a woman who just lost a few decades from her face and likely added them to her lifespan," Lucius said with a chuckle.

"Oh, laddie, you have _no_ idea. I don't even recognise myself anymore. I haven't had this colour hair in years, and I'm fairly certain Albus keeps shooting me looks behind my back despite certain, ah, affiliations that we _all_ know of."

Lucius snorted and shook his head, raising his hand in reply. "You remember everything, yes?"

"Took me a week or two, but yes," Minerva said. "Ach, poor Severus, though. He's still back in the seventies. Was it you that sent him that parcel with all the grooming items and male accoutrements?"

Lucius nodded. "I remember what he had back then, and I added a few things in the hopes he doesn't remember what he didn't have."

"I'm sorry he didn't recognise you at first," Minerva apologised.

"At least he recognised me after Hermione calmed him down," Lucius said. "Getting him to recognise Regulus was one thing, but Sirius— well, that's one way to find out you're also a basilisk. I'm glad Hermione is so fearless, throwing herself in between them so fast. I'm not sure who was more amazed— Severus or Sirius."

Minerva snorted into her hand. "I never thought I'd say this, but I'm truly glad he's Slytherin. You lot can certainly keep your secrets, I'll give you that."

"Minerva."

"Lucius?"

"I really need to find the one who did this."

"Laddie, I think when anyone knows for sure, it will hit the Prophet's special edition first thing. This is grounds for expulsion at the very least and a lengthy stay in Azkaban if proven to be the result of Dark magic. The entire family could be found guilty of using Dark magic."

Lucius sighed, his expression darkening. "They will _pray_ for the pleasures of Azkaban before _I_ am done with them."

Minerva looked over to the other side of the room. Hermione had exchanged the settee for Sithiss' warm coils and was making herself comfortable for the night. Fawkes snuggled under her arm as Daemon turned around three times and settled.

"You'd have to get to them first, laddie," Minerva said. "It may not even be me who desires their pound of flesh first."

* * *

Fawkes watched the Headmaster pace back and forth and wear a trench into the castle floor. The portraits started to mutter that they were getting dizzy, and many had left their frames from places elsewhere.

"It can't be," he told Fawkes. "It can't be."

Albus stroked his beard as he sat down at the desk and flipped through an old tome that looked like it had been squirreled away in the land of dust and forgetfulness. He turned the pages until he saw an old ink drawing of five dots on each side of the head: the Mark of Death's Chosen.

"It's impossible. He was Oathed to me!" Albus muttered. "He was Marked! You can't lose a Mark. You can't lose an Oath! How could he— Death doesn't just saunder up and—"

Albus slammed the book closed. He pulled out the parchment from his desk that he'd gotten from the Auror's office.

 _Headmaster Dumbledore,_

 _After extensive traces and following the Traces registered to the children when they start Hogwarts, we have tied the magic found in the exploding package to be linked to the following students:_

 _Cormac McLaggen_

 _Marietta Edgecombe_

 _Lavender Brown_

 _Ginevra Weasley_

 _Cho Chang_

 _Each will be set to trial before the Wizengamot within the month if not earlier after being thoroughly questioned with their parents present. Upon the decision of the Wizengamot, it may be ordered to have each child expelled and their wands broken due to the use of Dark Olde Magick, specifically family knowledge, on a minor as well as two professors of Hogwarts, one of which has been reverted to the point where teaching is impossible, thus forcing him to relive his school-age years._

 _While you are welcome to present any known history or other evidence at the proceedings, either in support or against them before the Wizengamot, only verified untampered memories extracted under witness will be presented as verified evidence of character._

 _Aurors will be sent to escort said children from the Hogwarts grounds after curfew to lessen gossip and speculation before the Wizengamot can make their final decision as to the proper treatment of minors who would conspire to use Dark magic._

* * *

Albus sighed, rolling up the parchment. He closed his eyes and slumped. "What am I going to do, Gell?" he whispered. "We were supposed to become the masters of Death, and now He is coming ever closer…"

Dumbledore rubbed his temples. "Do you think he knows, Gell? He has stolen my Oathbound agent into the heart of Tom's plans. I cannot be so lucky again. If he remembers— there will be no second chance to bind him again."

Albus paced the floor again, with Fawkes looking back and forth as if he was watching a tennis match. His mutterings came and went but descended into gibberish. Finally, he stormed out of his office into his private bedroom and closed the door.

Fawkes sat on his swing and warbled _Rosin the Bow_.

* * *

Horace Slughorn heard giggling coming from his apprentice's chambers and tilted his head, curious. He knocked on the door and passed in to find Severus laying on his stomach on the floor as he flipped through a large tome.

"Severus?" he asked.

"Yes, Master?"

"Is everything okay?"

"Yes, Master," he said

"Studies done?"

"Yes, Master."

Horace looked around, scratching his head. "Well, don't stay up too late, Severus. Nothing that can't wait for tomorrow."

"Of course, Master," Severus answered, his onyx black eyes staring into Slughorn with the familiar intensity of his older self but not the same, harshness.

Horace smiled and walked out, closing the door behind him.

Hermione stuck her head out from under the pile of Severus' outer apprentice robes that had been discarded on the floor. She tongue flicked and lay her head on his lap as Daemon floated down from the ceiling where he had been temporarily _Leviosa_ -ed to hide his presence.

Severus giggled, pointing to a picture of some sort of horrible depiction of a monstrous serpent crushing the world.

Hermione shook her head, hissing. She turned the page with her snout and it showed a horribly drawn attempt at a basilisk with huge round eyes with slits and far too many fangs to fit inside one mouth. A knight thrust a scrawny rooster in front of him— a wiry bird that seemed to have lost half its feathers and exchanged its neck for a giraffe's. She beat her head against the pages as Severus giggled again.

Another bit of knocking had Slughorn stumbling in just after Hermione dove for cover and the poor cerberus plastered spreadeagle to the ceiling again.

Slughorn, looking everywhere but up, scratched his head in bafflement. "Don't forget to see Healer Cadmus tomorrow, my boy," he said, peering around again.

"Of course, Master," Severus said.

Slughorn shuffled out again.

Daemon whined softly from above.

Severus put his fingers to his lips in a shushing motion, pointing to the door.

Slowly, Slughorn's footsteps retreated once more, and Daemon floated back down again. Hermione poked her head out from under the pile of robes again, tongue flicking. Severus' hand gently drew across her smooth scales as they began again.

* * *

 _ **Handful of Hogwarts' Students Found Guilty of Shocking Dark Magic Attack on Fellow Student and Teachers**_

 _The Wizengamot rocked the Wizarding World when they came to the unanimous decision that five students, whose names are currently being withheld due to being minors, were guilty of conspiracy to cause harm to another, brewing of an illegal Dark potion and assembling a proximity-triggered parcel that was meant to explode on a fellow student but instead caused injury to two Hogwarts professors who threw themselves over the targeted student when magical containment efforts failed to prevent the explosion._

 _Memories and testimonies were presented long into the night for over a week, and the deliberations lasted for weeks after. The Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, gave testimony to extensive attempts that were made to end bullying at Hogwarts, including both in-school and during prevention workshops that were held during the summer months to instruct staff in more stringent regulations that were put in place to discourage bullying in general._

 _The involved students, had they been adults, would have been sentenced to Azkaban for no less than twenty years; however, the Wizengamot recognises that these offenders were not adults. Their crimes, however, were dire and quite intentional. Their reasoning, however, was still immature._

 _Each child has been transferred to Hogwarts' sister school, the Durmstrang Institute, where a very rigid curriculum and smaller class size to a higher teacher-to-student ratio promises to more effectively curb bullying._

 _The Durmstrang Institute, which has been controversial in using both magical reprimands and physical work (such as removing barnacles from ships and shoveling snow by hand) as punishments for misbehaving students, remains a school with higher than average marks and students that move on to highly respected jobs in the Wizarding world._

 _The students have been warned that this is their last chance at remaining in school and avoiding imprisonment. Should they commit any further infractions, they will be sent directly to Azkaban to serve out their full sentence, regardless of their age._

 _As for the family whose magic went into the crafting of the disastrous spell in question, the name is being withheld to prevent retribution while the Aurors investigate how often this Dark branch of magic has been in use, which members have used it, and for how long._

* * *

Hermione shrunk away from the Weasley matron as she fell to the ground and grovelled in front of her mother, Dumbledore, Slughorn, and Severus. Severus, driven by some instinct or perhaps pulling on the the strength of the friendship they had cultured in a short time, stood in front of her, using his robes to block her from Molly Weasley's sight. Cadmus, standing like a looming pillar over Molly, nudged the two children behind him, his healer robes swishing over them both to protect and comfort them both.

"Please, Albus," Molly pleaded. "Ginny is only eleven. She's barely in school. Please don't let them send her to Durmstrang!"

"I'm not sure what you expect of me, Molly," Albus said, his brows creasing. "The Wizengamot ruled what needed to happen. She added her blood into the potion with the others. We all saw the memory of her cursing Apprentice McGonagall for bringing shame to her family. We were lucky that Durmstrang was willing to take them at all. None of the other schools wanted to deal with them for their dishonour shaded their strength of character."

"But Durmstrang is full of Dark wizards!" Molly protested, horrified.

"So is Britain, apparently," Dumbledore said grimly. "She's not being forced into Azkaban, Molly. She has a good chance to do well there under the kind of supervision we cannot provide here at Hogwarts. I tried, Molly. I had a very active anti-bullying program going on, but this still happened. It is obvious that we, at Hogwarts, do not have the structure she and the other children need to avoid the more selfish temptations of Dark magic."

"But Durmstrang embraces Dark magic!" Molly wailed.

"No, Durmstrang seeks discipline and education to better defend against what they know. It is entirely different from you might think," Albus said.

"Albus! A dark cloud has descended upon my family! You _**know**_ we are good people! Please. Please! Help us!" She looked toward Hermione, but Snape stood in front of her.

"Snape? You know us! You _**know**_ my Ginny wouldn't hurt anyone!"

As she reached toward him, Snape took a big step back. "I do not know you, ma'am," he said, his black eyes going very wide.

Molly, looking desperate, shook her head. "No, you remember me, I _**know**_ you do, Severus!"

Cadmus stepped in front again, annoyed that Molly had woven her way around him on purpose. "You will leave both my apprentice and Professor Slughorn's out of this conversation. They are here only at the Headmaster's behest, and only because _we_ are with them."

Hermione gently tugged on her Master's sleeve, and he leaned down so she could whisper something in his ear. Cadmus narrowed his eyes and then nodded once.

"My apprentice wishes you to know that she holds no grudge against your daughter, Mrs Weasley. She was not familiar with her, nor did she know her well enough to make a statement at the Wizengamot, as you well know," Cadmus said. "She is willing to make a statement to this effect in the hopes she may rate a lighter sentence as she was not one of the repeat offenders, provided—"

"Yes, yes, _**ANYTHING!**_ " Molly said, wringing her hands. "We'll do anything!"

Severus whispered to Hermione who whispered back into Cadmus' ear.

Cadmus whispered to Dumbledore and the elder wizard nodded.

"Provided she learns from a Ministry-assigned tutor either at the Ministry or at home to be assessed each year for whether she is able to return to Hogwarts."

"She would, of course, have to have an advanced trace placed on her wand for the duration of her sentence," Albus said. "She would have to be Flooed to take her exams at the Ministry so Ginevra can be appropriately supervised."

Molly nodded fiercely. "Of course, Albus. Of course. Anything to keep my Ginny in Britain!"

Albus seemed to realise what Molly was really saying. Anything to keep her baby close where she could be with her instead of at Durmstrang where family visitation was very strictly controlled. Yet, even so, Ginevra was not yet attending Hogwarts during the first incidents, and her participation in the plot was apparently influenced by her older peers, goading her on by bringing up her brother—

"Very well, Molly," Albus said sternly. "If and _only_ if all of the aforementioned victims of that dreadful potion agree, I will bring it up with the Minister for Magic and then the Wizengamot, but I will say this only once, Madam. If any more trouble comes to us from the Weasley clan, there will be _no_ second chances. This will be the very last time. I already regret having allowing you to have a non-approved familiar when you brought Mr Pettigrew to Hogwarts in disguise without having registered him with the familiar office first to avoid what _did_ happen."

Molly, thoroughly flustered, could only nod in relief.

* * *

 _Dear Mr and Mrs Weasley,_

 _My name is Hestia Jones, and I have been assigned as your daughter's tutor and monitor until if or when she is permitted to return to Hogwarts for the remainder of her schooling. As soon as I arrive, I will ascertain her safety as well as certify that she has met the requirements set by the Wizengamot such as the standard wand trace and the body trace._

 _As an employee of the Ministry, I will tutoring Ginevra in the standard curriculum for each year. That being said, other tutors for more specialised arts may be required, which will be covered by what was left over from your refunded Hogwarts fees after her withdrawal. Unless previous arrangements have been made for your daughter's escort to Ministry testing sites, I will arrive each morning at nine and leave at five in the evening._

 _Due to her circumstances, I will be scanning for and teaching her avoid Dark magic, but I must insist if you have any family history, tomes, grimoires, or heirlooms that even drift towards Dark areas, please have them removed and stored off-site before I arrive. Any that I find while I am there will be confiscated and destroyed, heirloom or no._

 _If all goes well, at the end of the term, she will will tested in both magical aptitude and Dark influence or any residual magic left from her part in the Dark spell. If she comes up clean, she will be eligible to return to Hogwarts with both traces intact. Those will remain until the end of her sentence given by the Wizengamot._

 _Please be advised that any and all social activity outside of your home must be supervised even after I leave. Any attempt to defy this rule_ _ **will**_ _be detected by the trace, and she will be immediately tracked down and brought in to the Ministry to determine the reason and nature of the infringement._

 _While all of this may seem rather grim and daunting, with hard work and dedication, Ginevra will be able to return to Hogwarts and finish her schooling without someone shadowing her. The reason for such strict guidelines is in part for your daughter's own protection due to the fact that Ginevra will remain susceptible to Dark influences in the future as a result of the Dark spell she willingly participated in at such a young imprintable age— even if she was not fully aware of all potential consequences when her blood was used as a catalyst._

 _I look forward to meeting with you this coming Monday._

 _Cordially Yours,_

 _Hestia Jones_

* * *

As Minerva walked into her daughter's room to check on her before bed, she stifled a smile as she saw the unlikely pileup. Sithiss had sprawled his impressive bulk around the entire room with Daemon curled up in the middle. Fawkes was fast asleep perched atop Daemon's middle head, right between the cerberus' ears, his headcrest rising and falling as he slept. Hermione and Severus were curled up close together, the young basilisks having woven themselves into a tight ball that rather resembled a serpentine yin and yang. Hidden amongst the coils was Lucius, his pale scales glistening in the dimness of the room. The two younger basilisks used his head as a pillow.

Minerva chuckled and resigned herself to fate and shifted into her own serpent form, wiggling her way into the pile. She yawned, showing all of her fangs, and snuggled into the feeling of blessed contentedness. As they all fell into the land of dreams, the Mark of Death's favour glowed softly from each of their heads like chains of distant stars.

* * *

 **A/N:** Whoa hey, did you forget about this story? _**SURPRISE!**_

Fluffy arachnid: _Hey, what about us?_

Second arachnid: _Yeah! Don't forget about us!_

Third arachnid with bucket over head: _(squeaking) (thumps into wall) (heavy sighing)_

Fourth arachnid arrives and nudges Bucket onto a placemat and drags him off to places unknown.

Fluffy arachnid: _Hrm, so, pie?_

Second: Mmm, pie. _I'm game. Let's do it!_

Spiders hustle off to make shoofly pie together.

((Later))

Dumbledore wanders by munching a slice of pie. "Mmmph. I didn't know there were raisins in shoofly pie."

The spiders eye him and scratch their heads with their forelegs. " _Those aren't raisins."_

Albus pales, stops chewing, gulps, and dashes out of the room in a flurry of purple robes.

Severus lowers his book, takes a forkful of pie and resumes reading. "Mmm, you added currants. Excellent."

The spiders exchange glances. " _We can't fool him."_

" _Nope."_

" _We keep trying."_

" _And failing."_

" _But not at the pie,"_ Severus says with satisfaction, savoring another rich forkful.

" _He likes it!"_

" _Yay!"_


End file.
